


Sto Vo Kor

by Illusionna, LBoston, scottking101



Series: Star Trek: USS Bonaventure [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-18 12:59:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 54
Words: 86,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16995441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illusionna/pseuds/Illusionna, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LBoston/pseuds/LBoston, https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottking101/pseuds/scottking101
Summary: In 2300, Constitution class starships are quickly being phased out in the face of newer technology.  The Klingon threat is very real. The Romulans have resurfaced. Quantum torpedoes haven't been invented yet.  The Federation of Planets has sent out its fleet to explore the far reaches of space, to learn about new life and new civilizations, and to boldly go where no man has before.  The untold stories of those ships other than the USS Enterprise, still sit in the archives of the Federation, awaiting for those to learn their history.  Here are the logs of the USS Bonaventure, describing the adventures of the ship and crew.  "If you look at the heroes of antiquity and myth, they all have flaws. It's something that they have to overcome; their flaws are something that they have to act in spite of. The challenge is not to defy your fate, but to endure it. That is heroic."This is an ongoing interactive writing venture.  If you're interested in joining the crew, contact us.





	1. ACT One Part 1

******.26 Au distance from Sun's photosphere**

**USS Bonaventure, NCC-1745**

**Deck A, Bridge**

 

He had been at it for nearly an hour.  The rescue of the shuttle team had been a success.  The apprehension of the Optimum officers was all but assured.  The Federation's inner fleet scrambled toward the center of their own Solar system to lend support.  Yet, the ship whose spirit was at the center of the conflict was locked in a very tight grip.  Her controls seized again, and Admiral VanHorne cursed as he again tried to get power levels high enough to break the Sun's orbit.  The Phobos followed close by, though the sister ship was there more in spirit than pragmatic assistance.

It had been his dream for quite a while.  The bridge, violently smashed, would be a barely functioning, sparking, smoking nerve center, barely distinguishable from the polished, stainless steel command pod that it usually was.  There would be friction, escaping atmosphere, loud noises reverberating through the ship from struggling systems, a wild and hopeless view on the main viewer, and internal atmospheric and gravitational forces that would put any man to the test.

In every dream he had about this moment (awake or asleep), he would be at the command chair.  Whether the bridge was filled with good officers fighting the good fight, or – whether, like at this moment, he happened to be alone – the constant would be him.  He was this Bonaventure's Captain.  Regardless of rank.  Regardless of time.  Fate.  The Universe.  Whatever that unseen hand was would ensure that during this vessel's final moments, he would go down with her.  It was written.  It was poetic.

_It's just….right!_

VanHorne had been kicked, battered, bruised, and had endured having much of his plasma extracted in a bizarre attempt to try and resurrect one of history's most dangerous villains.  His blood had been a safe haven for tiny machines, and just as surely – it continued to pump through his entire body, now being eclipsed by the magical concoction that Dr. Mender had pumped him with.  His heart was still beating.  He still had breath in his body.  He was still in command.  Somehow… 

On speakers, just over the din of the impulse engines, and a failing inertial dampening system, he could hear O'Dag punch though on the all-call.  His faithful First Officer, reliably at the ready, approaching with the other ship.  Attempting to extend shields.  Resilient to the last.

=/\=THIS IS THE USS PHOBOS CALLING THE USS BONAVENTURE.  COME IN PLEASE.  DO YOU READ?=/\=

VanHorne shook his head softly as he levelled his hand up, bringing the starboard stabilizers in line, adjusting the great ship's attitude control.  The Bonnie rotated slowly as it glided further and further toward the Sun…even in the silence of space, he could hear her howl…

_Yes, I read…hands are busy…veer off….don't risk the entire day because you want to rescue me…can't you see this might be my fate?  Go away now…_

Another howl.  Below decks.  It sounded like a burly monster.  Was she making that noise?  Was it some sort of anthropomorphic manifestation of the ship?  Was he hallucinating?  The sirens rang out.  Collision sensors were picking up the increased radiation and gravitational pull.  Her systems were failing. 

In that instance, VanHorne may have logically looked around him at the ship as it fell apart around him.  He might have deduced that given the conflicts she had been through in the last few months, her level of structural deterioration, loss of key systems, multiple hull breaches, and overall unlikelihood that she'd ever be space-worthy again—that it was a lost cause.  Then, of course, there was his own life.  In spite of his personal tragic desire, hidden behind many layers of things like duty, and perseverance—to allow himself to be swallowed up by the vessel whom had served as his real mistress …

_Oh, yes.  The siren's call is tempting.  I'd really just like to take us both into a sun dive.  My dear Bonnie, you and I can have a permanent nap into oblivion, and forget all about the duty that calls us away.  It will be tragic, spectacular.  They'll mourn our losses as one, and we'll live in history.  Wouldn't you like that?  Wouldn't I like that?_

The howl came again.  This time from below decks.  He was certain –taking a break for a moment, from the romantic notion of perishing on the periphery of the Sun itself—that Deck J was experiencing an overload from the cold fusion systems.  The emergency forcefields that had protected the deck from vacuum were now failing due to the rising temperatures and radiation exposure that were blasting the exterior hull.

He looked up, beyond the sensor dome, to the tiny partition of transparent aluminium that served as the only honest-to-God portal out into space that wasn't (like the viewscreen) a filtered image, something that the computer absorbed via sensors, and relayed back so that the primitive humanoid eye could digest it for the sake of navigational purposes.  The brightness outside of the ship was of an intensity where the white heat was threatening to illuminate every bit of the inner bridge.  It was beautiful, in a way. 

His breath escaped in steamy wisps as the environmental controls this deck (and deck B) went into over-drive, a final safeguard against thermal overheat that Mr. K'Liver had built into the systems.  What it now meant was that external temperatures were now in excess of 900,000 Kelvin.  The little bit that the overtaxed environmental controls would be nothing in the face of a minutes long onslaught.

"I don't want to die." VanHorne said to himself.  He had plenty of reasons to live.  Plenty of people counting on him.  His own fatigue was hardly a reason to stop fighting.  Yet…

_What in the devil is this howling?_

He flipped open the channel.  It put his voice onto the Phobos, where undoubtedly O'Dag was listening,

"We're getting awfully close.  Take the Phobos out.  I'm going to try and minimize the Bonnie's side profile to the photon bombardment, and then begin another impulse burst to try and build up speed for another orbital pass.  It's going to take some time.  Find safe harbor, and order a support ship to monitor me.  Get the survivors to real medical facilities.  You're just minutes away from Earth.  Have someone else take over.  Copy?"

The line went silent.  That meant that O'Dag was trying to come up with a clever way not to have to leave him.  He hated leaving the old man's side.  It was endearing.  Though, this time, as he watched the dual hulled Andorian-built craft wavering in the blasts of coronal ejection, the Admiral had to insist,

  
"Disengage the Phobos.  I'm going to baby the Bonnie back home.  It'll take time.  Maintain this channel."

He looked at the aft monitor, and smiled,  
"I'll be okay.  I promise."

 

**Seven years ago ....**

 

Starbase 24

Main Engineering

 

 

After waiting for what felt like an eternity for the demolitions crew to arrive, an emergency warning klaxon began ringing, indicating that the core needed immediate maintenance.

 

The XO laughed, "We're all going to die if I don't get this thing fixed. No pressure."

 

At that moment, VanHorne was reminded of Captain Spock. It had been 3 months since the legendary science officer perished while exposed to radiation in the Enterprise's engineering bay.

 

He steadily made his way down the catwalk, and looked for a hand-hold. He shook as he looked for a purchase, in order to try and re-fit the bulkhead.

 

He could feel his blood-pressure dropping, and looked down at a quickly darkening tunic where Dr. Eslyn's sutures had torn.

 

He could feel himself blacking out.

 

"Oh . . . my."

 

**Now ...**

 

**.26 Au distance from Sun's photosphere**

 

**USS Phobos**

**NCC 2786**

**Deck A, Bridge**

**_________________________________**

 

"Again," ordered Jexe. 

 

Krell nodded, wiped the sweat from his bifurcating brow and leaned into the Comm-mic. 

 

"THIS IS THE USS PHOBOS CALLING THE USS BONAVENTURE. COME IN PLEASE. DO YOU READ?"

 

Six seconds passed before the Bolian Cadet leaned back in his chair and looked expectantly at the Captain. 

 

"Sir ... I -- I think he may be ... " 

 

"He heard," replied the Titian with a wry grin. "Just wait." 

 

The newly promoted Captain studied the Bonnie on the main screen, doing his best to avoid looking at the sun. The ship that had been his home more than any other place in the Universe looked fragile and weak, a gossamer silhouette, like a moth in an arc-light. 

 

"What's the status on the hostages?" 

 

Krell consulted his screen. 

 

"The Alacrity has been secured in the Shuttle Bay. The hostages have been sent to Sick Bay while the prisoners have been processed." 

 

"Right." Jexe pressed a button on the arm rest of the Command Chair. "This is the Captain. We're going to attempt to tow the Bonnie by shunting power from our shields to our impaired tractor beam. All personnel evacuated all outer sections of the ship to the interior. Radiation protocols are now in effect. Secure emergency bulkheads and prepare to go to emergency power. O'Dag out." 

 

Moments later the lights in the Bridge dimmed. 

 

"Sir ... " began Vril carefully. "Once we lower power to the shields we'll be exposed too, like ... here 

on the Bridge." 

 

The Orion caught the eye of Krell and the remaining Cadets on the Bridge who collectively glanced up at the observation dome above their heads.

 

"Aye that," said Jexe. "That's why all of you are heading below deck where it's safe."  

 

"Sir ... we're not leaving you!" Krell jumped to his feet, but the new Captain held up a warding hand. 

 

"That's exactly what you're going to do, Mr. Krell." 

 

Coming to his feet Jexe walked over to stand behind Vril. He turned and faced the Bridge crew. 

 

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly Human. I have some tolerance for energy fields ... stronger than most, making me ideal for what'll come next." 

 

Sensing his intent the Orion Helmsmen stood from his post with a resigned expression on his face.  

 

"See that they get to safety, Vril," said Jexe softly to the Bonnie's best pilot. Vril nodded and fondly look down at the ship's control that he had quickly become attached too. 

 

"She pulls a little to Starboard when taxed, sir, other than that she skates on the stars," offered the Helmsmen. 

 

"Don't let her hear that,"said Jexe as both men eyed the Bonnie. "She can be as vain as she is beautiful." 

 

The Orion pulled a grin.

 

"Wouldn't think of it, Captain." Vril paused as the Cadets gathered near the lift. "Sir ... " he began. 

 

"Go on, Vril. I'll be fine," said Jexe with his best reassuring voice. The Orion tried to find the proper words, but instead pulled himself to his full height and offered his hand. 

 

"I think you're one of the bravest man I've known, sir." 

 

Jexe shook his hand and met the Orion's look. 

 

"Or the dumbest. Go on, we're running out of time." 

 

The Titan took his place at the Helm as he heard the Turbo-lift close meters behind him. Slaving the primary Bridge controls to his station he could see reports were coming in. The crew was ready. He tapped a button. 

 

"Owen, how you doing?" he asked his best friend down in Engineering. 

 

[Once we have the power we need ... three more minutes ... max!"] replied the breathless Science Officer. He sensed that was a literal answer. Scientist lacked the propensity for temporal exaggeration that made Engineers the miracle workers of the fleet. 

 

"Don't be late," answered Jexe. With that he work the Engineer section of his screen and began to bleed power from the shields into the tractor beam. Tapping into the living Spectrum he could sense the radiation levels around him begin to rise. A chime rang and he smiled. It was the Admiral. 

 

[We're getting awfully close. Take the Phobos out. I'm going to try and minimize the Bonnie's side profile to the photon bombardment, and then begin another impulse burst to try and build up speed for another orbital pass. It's going to take some time. Find safe harbor, and order a support ship to monitor me. Get the survivors to real medical facilities.  You're just minutes away from Earth. Have someone else take over. Copy?]

 

Jexe held off in answering as he continued to carefully bleed the power levels from the shields. The photonic range of the Living Spectrum was a churning storm of scathing energy. With a thought Jexe polarized the energy field around his body. It would stop his clothes from catching fire -- for a while. 

 

[WARNING --- RADIATION LEVELS EXCEEDING SAFETY LEVELS!] alerted the Computer. The Admiral called again. 

 

[Disengage the Phobos. I'm going to baby the Bonnie back home. It'll take time. Maintain this channel."

 

A pause followed then, 

 

[I'll be okay. I promise.]

 

Jexe hit the reply stud as he began to manoeuvre the Phobos closer to the Bonnie. 

 

"You sound delusional, sir. Must be the radiation exposure." 

 

[WARNING --- RADIATION APPROACHING HAZARDOUS LEVESL. BRIDGE EMERGENCY BULKHEADS HAVE BEEN ACTIVATED.]

 

Above him Duranium blades began to close over head like the aperture of a camera, closing off the dome above him.  Darkness followed until his eyes adjusted. 

 

"You realized Rachel would kill me if I left you there to fry. That's a conversation I'd like to avoid having if it's all the same, sir." 

 

Jexe edged the Phobos to be behind the Bonnie shielding her from the sun. 

 

"Sir, I'm going to try something here, but I'll need to work with you." 

 

The air was becoming thin. 

 

"You know ... this reminds me of how we first meet ... you were attempting to seal a core breach,

On Starbase 24 ... damn well almost got yourself killed too. You ... you had a set of broken ribs and some torn sutures from an earlier injury, yet you didn't give up." 

 

 

Jexe saw the signal from Owen. They were ready. 

 

"Well someone had to save your butt that day. Just glad I was there. The point is ... you didn't give up 

and you're not going to now." 

 

Something was burning. He thought it was the carpet. He removed his jacket. 

 

"I ... I think we only have one shot at this, sir. I'm close enough ... roughly a quarter of a kilometer above you .... to extend part of our fore-shields over the Bonnie's top ... ventral saucer decks. That should give you some protection. When you .... " 

 

He swallowed down a dry throat. His breaths were hot.

 

" .... you ignite your impulse burst I'll .... latch onto you with our tractor beam. Together with ... both our impulse engines I'll try to tether-whip you forward and out of the sun's gravitational pull." 

 

His hair was smoldering. 

 

"I'm ready when you are ... " 

 


	2. ACT One Part 2

**Captain Jexe O'Dag**

**Commanding Officer**

**USS Phobos**

 

Dr. Bellafontian Mender

Chief Medical Officer

USS Phobos NCC-

 

< Crew Lounge >

 

It wasn't much as lounges go: seating for fifty, a few strips of lighting that passed for neon, a personality-less bar with a few dozen bottles, a pair of basic replicators, and on a good night, a volunteer bartender. But this night it is magical.

 

Mender the Doctor found time for Mender the Daughter.

 

He held both of her hands in his.

 

"You have no idea how relieved I am that you're finally safe. When I first learned you were...captive...I thought I'd die. Literally. I couldn't breathe for fear something might happen to you."

 

"Oh, I have some idea. I know how I felt while I was there."

 

For a moment, they just held hands fast until the Doctor squeezed her hands, and let them go. "I was told you had something you wanted to tell me."

 

Chambrille Mender smiled, and cast her eyes down, then back into her father's. "I'm getting married."

 

Mender's mouth dropped open.

 

"Really?? Really!! Oh, Chambrille, I can't believe it. Finally... after all these years...How long has it been since Jacobianus passed?...ten years? I am so glad to hear it!." Then his face took on mock sternness. "Who is he?"

 

Chambrille laughed. He had to remind her that no matter how many years passed, he would always be her father.

 

"I think you know his family. The Sevri's, from the Prattaphell Regions. Mandemar is the second eldest son. Owns a plant that produces cutting-edge prosthetics. He has a son in college studying physical therapy. And he has no criminal record, as far as I know. Anything else you need to know?"

 

Mender chuckled. "That's enough, thank you. ...I wonder if the mess hall is open. I could use a bowl of soup right about now."

 

"I already asked. In case the occasional stabilizer shakes haven't given you a clue, your starship is still in a crisis. I feel for that poor bridge crew. They must be exhausted. Is there anything we can do?"

 

"How like my compassionate little girl! Worrying about people you've never met, for a problem no one has identified yet. We should really wait-"

 

"Why? As Chief Medical Officer, you're in charge of the crew's nutritional needs, aren't you. It wouldn't interfere with bridge operations to hand everyone a ten ounce energy frappe' would it? Come on, let's see what we can whip up on those replicators over there..."

 

"Wait! I don't even know how many crewpeople are on the bridge. Who knows what sort of beverages they'd prefer? And what-"

 

Chambrille was already standing at the left hand replicator, staring at a menu screen. "My oh my... there's a lovely variety of flavors here: chocolate, peppermint, butterscotch... If they need more than a couple of dozen drinks, I'll come back and make more. Hurry up, Father. I won't be able to carry all of them on my own."

 

So it happened that a few minutes later the Doctor and his daughter road a turbolift to the bridge, holding trays laden with ten ounce fortified frappe's in a sweet variety of flavors.

 

< Turbo-lift >

 

"We'll have to be as unintrusive as possible," said Dr. Mender.

 

"I see you've never dealt with a roomful of six-year-olds before, Father. Just announce your presence, say 'Doctor's orders', and then do what I do."

 

< Bridge >

 

Father and daughter strolled onto the bridge as though they owned it. Mender did as he daughter suggested. "These are not refreshments, crew people. Nutritional frappe's per orders of your Chief Medical Officer. Pick a flavor, drink up. Doctor's orders."

 

Chambrille Mender did not wait for anyone to argue or comply, but simply started at the Captain's chair. Resting her tray for a second on the chair's arm, she gently took hold of the Captain O'Dag's left wrist and then shoved a drink cup in his hand. "You like strawberry, don't you?" she smiled brightly. Then moved on. Her father followed suit with his share of the other officers, and two minutes later, they headed back out with empty trays.

 

"Thank you for your cooperation." Mender called out as headed into the turbolift.

 ________________________________________________

 

Noelle Sereni

Attorney for the Plaintiff

 

Sopar

Plaintiff

 

Ilion

Attorney for Defendant Starfleet through their agency

USS Bonaventure NCC-1745

 

Vorek

Attorney for Ambassador's Aide Sonak and his spouse

T'Preto  
  
  



	3. ACT One Part 3

< Federation Civil Court #1   San Francisco, Earth>

The lobby smelled of antiseptically clean marble and old, polished wood; the rare, antique genuine article. The pleasantly warm and musty air of history softened the harshness of early spring sunlight.

  
Noelle Sereni loved her job.

 

She pulled open one of the tall wooden doors, and strode confidently inside. The courtroom itself had only a few people milling about, waiting for the opening session.  
  
Her client Sopar sat near the front, as cool and unemotional as a statue. No brocade on his plain grey cloak. No jewelry or other accessories. She briefly glanced at the attorneys for Starfleet and for Ambassador Sonak and his wife T'Preto. The Vulcan Vorek would probably be representing Sonak and T'Preto. For co-counsel Starfleet had sent them a Deltan. What a contrast.  
  
They were deep into conference and never seemed noticed her entry. Fine, Sereni thought; they'll notice me soon enough, and then wish they could forget me.  
  
As an aide who dealt with legal matters outside and/or concerned the Vulcan Embassy, never had Vorek encountered anything like this. No wonder that this suit sent shock waves throughout the entire Embassy; even reaching Vulcan in a matter of hours. This was... unthinkable, especially since it involved the daughter of Ambassadorial Aide Sonak and Healer T'Preto. The situation was ludicrous to the extreme but no one attached to the Embassy found it amusing.

 

Starfleet had seen fit to assign as their representative a Deltan named Ilion. Like many Vulcans, he found the pheromones that Deltans naturally gave off to produce what was commonly described as 'a headache'. Ilion had apologized for the effect; stating that Starfleet had a reason in assigning him as well as a personal interest, which he did not elaborate on. Ilion was discussing aspects of the suit's potential implications and Vorek kept an eye on the plaintiff,

 

Sopar who was sitting across from them. While he gave off every appearance of not noticing anyone else in the courtroom, Sopar was watching them as closely as Vorek was watching Sopar. The tiny signs that Sopar was giving off was... interesting.

 

He quickly recalled Sopar's age – of course. That must be the reason, but without adequate data, the conclusion was highly subjective and potentially incorrect, if he misread the signs.  
  
Ilion turned his attention to other matters. “Did you hear that the judge hearing this hearing has backed out, owing to“health reasons”? Vorek indicated that he did not. Interesting. The judge initially assigned was not particularly disposed to Starfleet.

 

“What do you know of the plaintiff's attorney- Noelle Sereni?” Ilion asked. “Only what the initial information on suit as filed provided. We have of course made inquiries - the information is on this PADD.” Vorek slid a PADD over to Ilion. He took it up and scanned it quickly. “Interesting. She has a varied and storied career.”  
  
“Most of it in the pursuit of credits and perceived personal power.” Vorek answered. “It is a difficult concept to comprehend.”

 

“Then my friend” Ilion replied “It is your good fortune that I am the assigned to this case. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that it must not succeed. Ah, I do believe Ms. Sereni has blessed us with her presence, has she not?”  
  
Vorek nodded. “There is a Human female matching the description provided approaching the plaintiff.” He couldn't bring himself to mention Sopar's name.  
  
Sereni slid into the seat next to Sopar. He did not stand. She was just hired help, after all.  
  
"You look relaxed," Sereni remarked _sotto voce_ ; "Even more than I'd expect the average Vulcan to be. That's good."  
  
Sopar glanced at Sereni, then turned his eyes back to the front. He didn't want to speak too much, even in whispers, for fear his enemies might overhear something."I am not your average Vulcan," he replied coldly; "Why should I not be relaxed? You've assured me this Earth venue would be smooth as I could hope for."

 

Sereni knew how to be heard, and not heard.  
  
"Then I need to remind you why today is the riskiest one of all. This is a preliminary hearing only, not the trial itself. The judge we've been assigned is not someone who can be easily... influenced."  
  
Sopar frowned. "What are you saying? I thought you'd arranged for Judge Trellis. He hates Starfleet."  
  
Sereni was becoming annoyed with her haughty client, but she suppressed her feelings almost as well as a Vulcan. Sopar's fees were still a powerful incentive. She didn't have to like the man. "We were set until yesterday. Trellis was caught in a hotel room with an underage Borellian, and now he's on extended personal leave for 'illness'. We'll get a replacement but I have no idea who." On that, she lied. How she would deal with the new judge was nobody's business. Not even Sopar's. "Then I wasted that extra 25,000 credits."  
  
"It will be applied to your general fees. And I will NOT prove to be a 'waste' towards your desired outcome, Sopar."  
  
Ilion made a pretense of looking over his collection of PADDs. He was of course observing Ms. Sereni. She was attractive for a Human woman and dressed provocatively. He smiled to himself. Yes, it was good that he was here. “What of your observations of Sopar?” He asked.  
  
“He is attempting to not to reveal anything about himself either in words or demeanour.” Vorek replied. “There are signs, however. I believe he is under escalating stress but I cannot state for certainty on the cause.”  
  
“My friend, I must ask you to trust me. Allow me to handle interactions for a little while, at least at first. The first 2 minutes of this hearing are absolutely critical.” Vorek nodded. He knew that Human legal procedures were often rife with trivialities of presentation and what was not said.  
  
Sopar's frown was darker. "Next you're going to tell me this new judge might actually rule against us."  
  
"I don't think so," Sereni answered; "But it is technically possible. This hearing is to determine only one thing: whether we have enough of a case to proceed or not. Nothing else. I promise you, we do."  
  
His cool Vulcan demeanor was cracking; Sopar started to rise as though he might shout at his attorney. She grabbed his left arm firmly and jerked him down to his seat. People were filing in. Court would soon be opening.  
  
Deliberately avoiding a direct look at Sereni, Sopar asked: "Did you prepare my offer for the Defendants?"  
  
Sereni sighed. "Yes I did. Although I still advise against it."  
  
Finally, Sopar looked at her.  
  
"Then do it."

 

Sereni approached the defendants' attorneys, and leaned towards them with her usual cool and confident smile. Apparently heedless of her exposed cleavage, she reached out to hand them a legal PADD. Her witness list was included to satisfy legal requirements, but they were only a formality, nothing more. Might even be moot, if she got lucky.

 

She suppressed a frown at Ilion's closeness. ~Is he taking his pheromone suppressors?~  she wondered.

 

"Hello. I assume you know who I am and why we're here."  
  
Ilion smiled and rose to meet her. “My dear Ms. Sereni, first allow me to state that it is a professional pleasure for me to meet you at last. I do indeed know why we're here. I assume you're here for a copy of our witness list?” He never took his eyes off Ms. Sereni as he spoke, his fingers quickly moving through his small stack of PADDs and taking one, holding it out for her.

 

Ignoring the Deltan's flattery, she waved her hand to interrupt them. "Wait a moment. My client has a proposal to make this all go away. You'd be wise to listen."  
  
Ilion looked quickly at Vorek, who in turn gave off no sign of anything. This was unexpected. “Very well, we are listening. Proceed with your proposal.”  
  
"In exchange for your acceptance of liability- a merely technical notation for the record- my client is prepared to accept token damages in the amount of one Federation credit and agrees that these proceedings will never, ever be made public. I can guarantee that. Best of all, he will no longer pursue any action of any sort to restore his betrothal bond with Lt. T'Val. She will be totally free to pursue her own... desires... as though no arrangement had ever existed between them. Further, he promises- in writing- to pursue no further legal issues arising from this case against any of the defendants . Just a few words on a legal document, and this event is nothing but an unpleasant memory- not even a financial loss. Please consider this offer quickly. It expires the moment the Judge walks out of his office."

 

“Ms. Sereni, your client's proposal is absolutely fascinating but after the time and effort to get to this point, I fail to see why this proposal is being made now.” Ilion said. “I must ask for the record – what exactly does your client want? Any lawyer knows that agreeing to an unspecified liability before knowing the details sets a dangerous precedent that can have repercussions far beyond this court room.”  
  
Something about Ilion was really starting to annoy Sereni. She could feel it in her queasy stomach. "There's no mystery about it, boys. The liability issues were spelled out in the suit: Your client's specific liabilities are spelled out in the PADD: The parents of T'Val conspired to trap the seven-year-old child Sopar into a marriage betrothal they never seriously intended to support. Although Sopar did feel the bond growing between himself and T'Val, it was her parents who allowed her to join Starfleet and encouraged her increasingly closer relationship with the crew of the USS Bonaventure; one Lt. Savion in particular. "Starfleet failed to honor the terms of their bonding, and thereby contributed to its failure. The dissolution of this bond has caused my client immense pain and suffering. Notice his former beloved has not been named in the action. Even now, he does not want her to suffer from the actions of others. So...against my advice, he wants to offer your clients an easy way out. He wants to move on and let his healing begin. No muss, no fuss: sign and go. Tick tock, gentlemen."

 

Ilion paused – long enough to start Noelle to begin to wonder if her pressure tactic was having an effect. It did; but he was certain it wasn't what she expected.

 

Ilion smiled again – but this time it was the smile of a lawyer. “My dear Ms. Sereni” he said in a honeyed voice. “I'm afraid your tactic to rush us into rash action simply will not work here. Have you forgotten just who we represent?” He paused again to let the message sink in.

 

~So he's smart enough to refuse the offer,~ she thought; “...Who you represent? Am I supposed to be intimidated?"

 

She half-turned to walk away.

 

“I have a counter-offer for you. Allow your client to 'heal' – and let this case end here and now. There will be no counter charges nor new actions brought against your client if you do so, I can promise that one thing. However, in case you fail to fully comprehend my meaning, in spite of the gross violations of privacy that your client has threatened our Vulcan clients with highly personal family matters, as well as besmirching the reputations of an entire crew, including the violation of the civil rights of one specific individual within that crew, we will not allow you nor your client to set a precedent of this magnitude.”

 

Sereni frowned. For a moment. The oily Deltan had her worried for just that long. ~Does he have something on Sopar I don't know about?~ Then she smiled again.

 

He paused again to savour the look on Noelle Sereni's face.

 

"You're bluffing. I thought Starfleet would do better than that."

 

“Whatever you think of Starfleet and Vulcan is of no consequence to either of us. I am still sworn to the pursuit of Truth even though I now fight my battles in the courtroom. I have access to considerable resources in that pursuit of Truth which are in motion right now – and my dear Ms. Sereni, this is no threat – as I do not threaten - but a simple fact.”

 

She turned back to face the Deltan. "You're too proud of yourself, Mr. Ilion. Facts require proof. My client is the injured party here, and I'm prepared to prove it. Don't waste your time trying to impress me." He held out the PADD bearing the witness list to her again.

 

“You will need this as required by law. And like your offer to us, this counter offer is only valid until the judge walks out of his office. I urge you not to wait too long.”

 

Sereni chuckled as she finally tucked their PADD under her arm and strolled away.  

 

"Consider your bluff called, gentlemen."

 

At that moment, a clerk stepped out of the judge's office to announce the arrival of Judge Sturrn, a two-hundred-year-old Vulcan jurist and former Starfleet Judge Advocate with a rank of Rear Admiral; he'd been called out of retirement as a temporary replacement for Judge Trellis.

 

"ATTENTION ALL--PLEASE RISE--COURT IS NOW IN SESSION--THE HONORABLE JUSTICE STURRN  PRESIDING."

 


	4. Act One Part 4 "As Goes The Phoenix"

USS Phobos NCC-2786  
  
Sickbay  
  
"Okay, Lieutenant, hold still." Savion did as he was told – he felt something press up against his arm and there was a hiss. "Okay, done. I've just given you a hemoglobin builder shot, plus I threw in some vitamins in for good measure." Nurse Crowley took the empty canister out of the hypospray and replaced it with a new one.  
  
"I'm going to give this to you – you know how to use a hypospray, right? Good. Give yourself a shot with this builder in about 8 hours. Then one more..." Crowley slipped the hypospray into a small carry case, along with another full ampule canister "...about 12 hours after that. Get lots of rest, keep yourself hydrated. We'll expect you in 48 hours to assess you for duty fitness after that. Remember what I said about your fingers, though. If the tingling persists, come in before that and we'll run a scan on your hand."  
  
"Yes, ma'am! I shall endeavor to follow your directives to the utmost!" He gave her a tired grin but a genuine one nonetheless.  
  
"Flatterer. However, save your smooth talk for your girlfriend, got it Lieutenant?" Crowley winked at Savion. She had to work to not to laugh at his somewhat confused look [Like you don't know!] She thought. "Thanks anyway. Now, off you go! Scoot!"  
  
Savion slid off the bench top he had been sitting on. He slipped the jumpsuit sleeves onto his arms and shrugged to get the jumpsuit top back on. He was looking forward to changing that suit; it was dirty and grimy from the Bonaventure mission... he wondered what going on with the ship. Did the Admiral pull the ship out?  
  
He headed out the exam room towards the exit – and realized he had left the hypospray behind. Darn! He turned around back towards the exam room – Nurse Crowley was already talking to someone - ...."it's so cute to see him pretending that he doesn't have a thing for her. I mean, it's SO obvious that they're crazy about each other."  
  
Savion paused. He had the feeling that he was the subject of this bit of ship's gossip – but he had no proof of that. He wasn't sure if he should make some sort of noise – this could be quite embarrassing for everyone involved. The matter was solved as the curtain opened again. "...was just here and YIIIKKEES! Lieutenant! You startled the heck out of me!" Sarah Crowley looked embarrassed; there was a definite red glow to her cheeks. "Um, what can I do for you....?"  
  
"I forgot the hypospray." He was sure his own cheeks were feeling kind of hot.  
  
"Oh! Of course. Here you go." Sarah reached over and took the hypospray box off the counter and gave it to him. "Uh, were you standing there long?"  
  
He decided to save as much embarrassment for the both of them as possible. "Actually, I just got here and you pulled the curtain aside just as I was about to."  
  
"Oh!" She said. "Good! I mean, that's fine. Remember what I said about your rest, Lieutenant."  
  
"I won't. Thanks for your time. Sorry that I startled you."  
  
"That's okay, Lieutenant. See you later."  
  
They both hurried away, but he heard Sarah say to her unseen companion "That was close. If he knew that we knew how much of a thing he's got for T'Val...."  
  
Then he WAS right – it was about him, and was it that obvious? It was clear that he was going to have a talk with T'Val later. Inasmuch as he loved talking to and being with her... [No, it was more than that, wasn't it? Admit it to yourself, you coward ]- his inner voice said.  
  
With troubled thoughts, Savion no sooner got into the corridor from Sickbay when the ship-wide alert went off.  
  
"This is the Captain. We're going to attempt to tow the Bonnie by shunting power from our shields to our impaired tractor beam. All personnel evacuated all outer sections of the ship to the interior. Radiation protocols are now in effect. Secure emergency bulkheads and prepare to go to emergency power. O'Dag out."   
  
Captain O'Dag? Where was Captain Drask? What else did he miss?  
  
There was the sound of running feet and several crewmembers came through at speed. Savion moved aside, habit had him hugging the corridor wall. One of the last crewmembers stopped to look at Savion – a Tellarite - K'Liver?  
  
"Chief! I'm glad I found you! We need you, on the emergency bridge! We need someone qualified to operate the tractor beam controls!"  
  
"But... I'm not on.... Oh damn." He couldn't turn this down- in spite of his tiredness, his sense of duty couldn't let him pass this up. "Let's go!" Savion followed K'Liver to the turbo-lift "Deck 6, Emergency Bridge!" K'Liver said and looked at Savion. "Are you all right, Chief? You look kind of pale."  
  
"Gave blood for surgery - they needed quite a bit from me but I'll be okay."  
  
The turbo-lift doors opened onto the Emergency Bridge. Most of the positions were taken already – K'Liver headed straight for the Engineering station and activated it. He picked up a headset and held it against one ear. "I'm here, Owen." He said into the comm. "No, I've got Chief Savion, right out of Sickbay. What? Okay. Stand by." K'Liver looked back at Savion.  
  
"The tractor beam controls are being configured through Sciences." He pointed to the next console over. "If you wouldn't mind?"  
  
"Of course." Savion slid into the seat [Man, that feels comfy!] and activated the console. It came to life and part of the console did a reconfiguration cycle. "Tractor beam controls active through this console." Savion reported. He picked up a headset like K'Liver and put it on. Immediately, he hear numerous voices reporting various statuses. Power, shields, radiation readings... he pushed most of that out of his mind and focused on what Science Officer Owen Cross was saying.  
  
Reduced power from fighting the Constellation and Hathaway.... have to compensate for photonic barrage from the Sun; massive waves of sub-space distortions which reduced the effective range and operational status of the tractor beam. Transporter standing by to lock onto the Admiral... got it. The transporter was out of his area of control. Savion adjusted the console to increase the sensitivity of the tractor beam controls. This was going to be tough; less than 20% effective. He checked the position of the Phobos relative to the Bonaventure. Aren't we're on the wrong side of the ship... He opened his mouth to say as much when there was an alarm and the ship gently shuddered. "Subspace distortions" K'Liver announced. "We are 250 meters from the Bonaventure". [Holy crap, that's close enough to touch her] Savion thought. He adjusted his display to bring the Bonaventure into view; further adjusted to counter the incredible brilliance of the Sun – they were only.... POINT 26AU away?? Damn. He adjusted his controls more. "Tractor beam effectiveness.... is only at 9%. I can barely get any lock on the Bonaventure."  
  
His report was acknowledged by someone; he continued to get a positive tractor lock. A sudden thought occurred to him. "Structural status of the Bonaventure? Can she take this? Anyone have that?" he asked over the headset. He focused on the image of the Bonaventure – wait, something's looking odd. Savion frowned and tweaked the image again.  
  
While he waited for an answer to his question and watched the tractor status hover around the 10% effectiveness mark, he also watched the Bonaventure. Her pockmarked, burned hull was taking a pounding and he couldn't see what was happening to her on the sunward side.  
  
"Can't get a tractor lock!" he announced loudly. Damn, he was tired and he was starting to sweat a little bit more.  
  
"We're losing the Bonaventure!" someone announced. "She's burning up!"  
  
That's what he saw – he was seeing the wisps trailing off the Bonnie as her hull burning off. With all the holes and patches..... he suddenly got chills. He hit the headset's 'talk' button - "Owen, the ship is going to break up – it's happening NOW!"  
  
"Chief, what's the tractor lock status?" Owen's voice came over the headset.  
  
"9%, 8%.... 10%...... 8%.. I can't get any lock on her that will do any good! Oh my god!"  
  
"Chief, what is it?" Owen said over the link.  
  
"I just saw a piece of plating come off and burn up – a big one!"  
  
"Dammit! Chief, you've got to pull her out of there!"  
  
"I'm trying but we're too close to the Sun! Tractor at 6% effectiveness! No! There's another chunk!"

K'Liver was transfixed by the image on the Sciences station and he adjusted some controls to put Savion's image on the big screen.  
  
The Bonaventure rocked gently back and forth, plasma streamers coming off the edges of the saucer and the pylons. The perfectly round saucer was starting to look ragged; and there was sections on the saucer starting to glow with patchy bits of lights. Savion recognized the area; there was a huge hole in the saucer near the rear portside landing pad – the patch was burning off.  
  
"I can't get a lock on the ship, I'm losing her....!" Savion's eyes were burning with exhaustion and growing tears.  
  
He heard over the headset: "Transporter room, get a lock on the Bonaventure Bridge, NOW!"  
  
There were rippling flames outlining a huge area on the saucer's rear port quarter. The bow section was starting to get all sorts of little glowing holes from the saucer's leading edge and was moving up towards the Bonaventure's NCC number. Savion's hands felt paralyzed as he realized he was powerless to stop what was happening. Huge streamers of vaporized hull was trailing back off the ship into a long trail; leading edges were glowing a dull red; the pylons, the engines. The huge exposed hole of the missing anti-matter bottle covers on the bottom of the secondary hull must be boiling back, frying the Arboretum and with the vast open spaces of the cargo deck and shuttle area... he wiped his eyes from what his mind's eye was envisioning. He was so focused on the image that he barely noticed that the comm chatter had slowed to near nothing. Someone near him sobbed briefly.  
  
The Bonaventure continued to fight to keep her heading trim, but it was quickly obvious that is was a losing battle. A huge flare of light erupted along the top of the saucer's rear port quarter as the patches finally evaporated under the relentless assault of the Sun's power; and that was her final gasp. The Bonaventure rolled, exposing for the first time to Savion her burning underbelly. From the open anti-matter hatch all the way back to the fantail, the secondary hull had burnt in a huge gash, the outer hull gone. The lower saucer was a melted mass of exposed decking – the ship continued to roll around and she started to veer.  
  
They were too close. Too close! Savion's hand sought out the collision alarm, but someone else beat him to it. The horrible klaxon warning of an impending collision sounded. Urgent voices sounded over the comm link again; commands to move away, where was that damn transport, and other demands to the Phobos' systems. Miraculously, the Phobos started to veer off and not a moment too soon. The Bonaventure continued her rapidly uncontrolled motions into a full tumble – the saucer suddenly bent at angles all wrong for her – and then she was in two pieces. The warp engines, stressed beyond endurance by melting infrastructure twisted at shocking angles to each other. One engine snapped free, tumbled end over end – pacing the saucer and the secondary hull. The tractor beam controls were untouched by him now.  
  
It was over; the broken Bonaventure tumbled burning, into the Sun. He closed his eyes and put his hands over his face, unable to stop the tears that came as his home of over two years died.  
  
Someone put their hands on his shoulders. "Chief... I'm so sorry. I know you did the best you could." the voice said. "I thought you'd like to know that we got the Admiral. I don't know how, but we did."  
  
He nodded, acknowledging the report and wondered just who the heck that was. He took a deep breath and struggled to get himself under control.  
  
***Later***  
  
Savion sat in one of the crew lounges on Deck 3. The radiation alarms had ended some time ago and the all-clear sounded. He really didn't notice anyone around him; and truth be told, it seemed like people were flowing around him for the most part; he was glad for the semi-privacy somewhat.  
  
Someone came close to him- and then Kitane's gruff voice said "Brother, I am so sorry. She.. she was my home, too. I will always remember the times we had there." Savion nodded, looked up at Kitane's sad face. "I know." Savion said. "I will never forget her."  
  
"Kerov-ahm" T'Val suddenly appeared on his other side. "I, too grieve but I do not understand your emotional reaction. Where is the logic of an antiquated ship of limited value warranting so much of your emotional energy?"  
  
"It's.... it's hard to explain, T'Val. She wasn't just a ship; not just a collection of parts. She had.... heart and a soul. I know my reasons are emotional, but it's part of being Human – we're sentimental, illogical... and well, emotional."  
  
He took a deep breath. "I'll try." He sat there for a moment. "The Bonaventure was more than just a ship to me, T'Val- she was my home. I know I haven't really talked to you about my life prior to the old Tikopai, where we all met – and I never grieved for that fine ship like I do for the Bonny now. She was... home and I was happy there. When I was in the Academy, the subject of the Bonaventure was popular amongst my class; she had history – no, she MADE history. I would dream..." his voice trailed off for a moment and grew stronger again. "I would dream of being on that ship, flying around the Galaxy, doing great deeds for the Federation. And then I got the chance to actually BE part of the ship's crew."  
  
"I couldn't resist that chance then, and..." He put his hands on T'Val's and Kitane's shoulders "I had the both of you, my best friends. I have never felt more like I belonged anywhere in my life than I did on the Bonaventure. She was so much more than a ship – I'd even say she was an ideal to aspire to."  
  
He looked at each of his friends' faces. Kitane almost nodded in understanding and looked thoughtful. T'Val, however... he couldn't read her at all; she was at her Vulcan best.  
  
"I'll tell you both one thing, though. I would rather lose a home I love rather than lose either of you." He reached around with his hands to pull them both into a one-armed hug. "As long as we can be friends, I will always have a place to be." He held the hug for a moment and then let them go.  
  
"We still have the future, my friends."

 

Dr.Bellafontian Mender

Chief Medical Officer

USS Phobos NCC-2786

 

Dr. Dorian Fletcher

Medical Officer

USS Phobos NCC-2786

 

Chambrille Mender

Daughter

 

 


	5. ACT One Part 5

< Sickbay >

 

Chambrille was hugging her father at the entry when Dr. Fletcher came running up to them.

 

"Dr. Mender! The Bonaventure is breaking up and falling into the sun! We can see it from the main science lab on the other side of this deck!"

 

Without comment, Mender and his daughter hurried with Fletcher to the Science Lab, where huge curving viewports displayed an awesome, gut-wrenching sight.

 

Flaming chunks of what used to be a starship were tumbling towards the sun.

 

"Did they rescue Admiral VanHorne?" Mender asked quietly.

 

"I don't know," Fletcher replied; I know the bridge was trying to save the ship itself, I don't know about..."

 

"I'll have to check," said Mender, turning to leave; "If the Admiral has not been saved, I suppose there's not much else we can do."

 

"Hey!" Chambrille called out; "What's wrong with you two? I know that neither of you spent a lot of time aboard the Bonaventure- Father was there only a couple of months, and I know Dorian was assigned there, but never stepped foot onboard. HOWEVER.... there are a lot of people on this ship who spent years there. It was their home, their work, their common cause,  their lives. Seeing this is like a family watching their home burn down. You're going to have a lot of emotionally wounded people here. Have either of you had any psychological or counselling training?"

 

Fletcher and Mender exchanged glances. "Just the basic courses required at the Medical Academy", said Fletcher; "Well...over the years..." Mender hesitated, "It's not my speciality..."

 

"Who cares!" Chambrille shouted; "You're doctors! Go heal somebody!"

 

**Seven years ago ....**

 

**Starbase 24**

**Main Engineering**

_______________________ 

 

 

"Oh . . . my."

 

"Hey! Easy there," said Jexe as he rushed forward to catch the staggering officer. With a steady gaze he looked over the ... his eyes widen. The man wore the uniform and rank of a Executive Officer.

 

"Jason," called Jexe over his shoulder.

 

Lt. Jason Thayer stuck his head out from a Jefferies Tube.

 

"Yes, Jexe?"

 

"It's now or never. A build up in the power core is imminent."

 

"Right. Right. Hold one!" mumbled the Assistant Tactical Officer as he ducked back into the tube. Suddenly the lights in the chamber dimmed before a level five force field erected itself around the core.

 

"All right. Maximum containment is established," shouted Thayer from deep within the tube.

 

Jexe nodded as he walked VanHorne away from the core and sat him in a workstation chair.

 

"Sir, for your own protection, I suggest you stay here," said the Ionic Titan.

 

_______________________ 

 

 **Now ...**  

 

**.26 Au distance from Sun's photosphere**

 

**USS Phobos**

**NCC 2786**

**Deck A, Bridge**

 

 

He wasn't Human anymore. 

 

He had to concede that fact, especially when his consciousness was immersed in the network feed of the Phobos' comm., and power systems. Words passed into his mind like voices in his ear, system levels became images, power flow a pulse. He occupied the spirit of the ship, merged through systems united at the ship's helm control -- engineering, life-support, impulse control, and last, the tractor beam itself. 

 

He wasn't Human anymore. He was what he feared -- something else -- 

 

_**... SUN-EATER ... SUN-EATER ... SUN-EATER ...** _

 

But he knew enough to tell that things weren't going well. The Comm-whispering grew louder.

 

 _"Can't get a tractor lock!"_ announced a voice loudly. It was Savion. He sounded tired, his vibrational tone belied his body's stress and the act of sweating.

 

 _"We're losing the Bonaventure!"_  shouted another voice, this one younger, tinged with anxiety; a male with labored breaths.  _"She's burning up!"_

 

He shifted his mental eye and connected with the ship's dual sensor dish and the image of the Bonnie was painted in his mind. She was burning, his fingers began to curl as they hovered above the helm console, tendrils of light dancing between. He almost lost contact, but re-established. 

 

 _"Owen, the ship is going to break up – it's happening NOW!"_ The Chief Engineer's voice belayed little doubt. 

 

 _"Chief, what's the tractor lock status?"_ Owen's voice was loud in his mind.

 

_"9%, 8%.... 10%...... 8%.. I can't get any lock on her that will do any good! Oh my god!"_

 

Jexe broke contact and stood. It was happening. They were losing the Bonnie, their home, their center. Everything that was their place in the Universe was moments from being destroyed, and with her, the one man who had made her a legend. 

 

He stood rooted with fear as he watched her and for several taut seconds he faltered. The Bridge around him was hot. With the fore shields reduce his boot soles softened on the deck plate floor. The Admiral hadn't responded for the past few minutes. 

 

  _"Transporter room, get a lock on the Bonaventure Bridge, NOW!"_

 

The words clouted him like a fist, rousing him from his stupor. 

 

*Stupid fool -- MOVE!* 

 

He jumped back to his seat and connected to the Transporter feed. The beam out attempt wasn't going good. 

 

"Transporter Room, status?" he ordered with a raised voice. 

 

[I -- I can't get a lock, sir, there's too much interference!] answered a voice that was young and churning with panic. 

 

"Listen to me, Crewmen, bind your lock with the those of the Cargo Transporters. The additional power should allow you punch through." 

 

Time passed, too much for his liking. 

 

[Sir! I have him! ... but I can't focus the confinement beam. I -- I could beam up the Admiral, or -- or half of him and part of a bulk head wall!] The boy's fear, for Jexe knew now he was a Cadet, threatened to grip the youth's disastrous immobility. 

 

The Titan's eyes shot towards the screen. Heated blisters the color of molten steel swelled across the Bonnie's rear saucer section. Others edged their way towards the Bonaventure's designation number. 

 

"Focus, Cadet. Listen to my voice. Are you with me?" 

 

[Yes ... Yes, sir!] There was some steel in the young man's words, and Jexe felt a measure of hope.  

 

"Good," The new Captain's fingers flew over the Helm console. "In a few moments I'm going to lower our shields for fifteen full seconds. In that time you're going to lock onto me, here on the Bridge, and beam me to Admiral VanHorne's location. When I give the signal -- " 

 

[S-signal, sir?]

 

Jexe licked his lips. 

 

"Ever watch that Holo-vid, Klingon Abbey?" 

 

"Sir? Klingon ... what?" he could almost see the Cadet's brow furrow. 

 

"It's a thing." 

 

[A ... thing?]

 

"Aye that." Jexe grinned. 

 

[Ha! Whaddya know, it's a thing,] The Cadet laughed and Jexe's hope grew as his ploy to relax the kid worked. 

 

"When I'm over there look for a series of pulses along the X-ray spectrum. You won't miss it cause it will be the opening theme to -- 

 

[-- To Klingon Abbey!] finished the Cadet. 

 

"Aye. Focus your lock on that and beam us over. Have a medical team ready when we arrive. Clear?" 

 

[Yes, sir. Clear!] 

 

"Right ..." Jexe dropped their shields and took one more look at the Bonnie. Wafts of singed vaporized hull trailed off the ship like a meteor entering a living atmosphere. Profile edges glowed to ember red as they engulfed the pylons up to the warp nacelles. 

 

"NOW!" Light and sight swirled around him. Gravity shifted, and sudden he was in a furnace. The Bridge was on fire. Consoles, and carpets burned, paint blistered and peeled. Jexe threw his forearm across his eye as he turned about looking for -- 

 

He spotted him. 

 

The Admiral sat in the Captain's Chair. His Command jacket smoldered, his hair was disheveled, but he remained resolute in his fate. He would go down with his ship, remembered for who he was -- Human. Officer. Admiral. Legend. The ship shook with a primordial groan and Jexe could feel the last of dregs of gravity fail. He walked over to the man he had followed to Hell itself and stopped. Stepping away a few paces he performed what he knew would be his last act on the Bonnie, and then came to the Captain's side. 

 

"Sir?" he asked in a cautious voice. The Admiral's eyes were closed, but he spoke with surprising clarity. 

 

"Are we there yet?" 

 

"Soon, sir." 

 

Throwing VanHorne's arm over his shoulder Jexe stood and closed his eyes. He ignored the sensation of the floor sinking under him. Reaching inward he tapped into the Living Spectrum. Radioactive glints danced in front of his eyes. He strummed them faintly and they hummed in a specific composition. 

 

Nothing happened. 

 

They began to rise off the floor as all gravity failed. Above them the observation dome began to crack. He strummed the X-ray wavelength again. Nothing. His ears began to pop. The air grew thin. How much time did he have left? Pressure began to crush his chest.

 

"Seriously ... now would be good," he tried to say, but his voice was lost over the sound of building flames. The dome cracked again and through it he saw the Phobos above them, so close and so far. Below him the bridge deck gave away and crumpled into the deck below. He saw the Command Chair fall last and topple downward into an endless darkness. He looked away and polarized the natural energy fields around his and VanHorne's body. It would protect them from the vacuum of space, but not for long. His body shimmered like a mirage. He was taxing himself but he had to hold on. Seconds passed. He was nearly out of air and strummed the X-ray signal again. 

 

Nothing. 

 

That was it. He saw now how it would end. He had tired to save the Admiral, but had failed. Perhaps this would be for the best. The Admiral would become a legend and his own fears would soon be --- He shook his head. It didn't really matter who or what he was. In the moment of his death he would face it as the being he wanted to be. That was enough. He pulled in what he knew to be his last breath. He would drop their protective field and expose them to the fury of -- 

 

Light and sight shimmered. Gravity was restored and he clattered to his knees as fresh air cooled his brow and filled his lungs. A blur of movement surrounded him. 

 

"They're back!" 

 

"I've got a pulse but it's weak." 

 

"Right, stabilize him. Breathing mask and I.V." 

 

"Sir, are you all right?" 

 

His eyes burned, but Jexe managed to nod. 

 

"See to the Admiral," he commanded. A hand found his elbow and helped him to his feet. The skin of his face was tight and cool. It felt wonderful. He watched as the Admiral was placed on a medical gurney and rushed out of the Transporter Room. 

 

"Sir, you should get to Sick Bay too. You look ... well, awful." 

 

He blinked and realized he was speaking with Tara O'Neil. 

 

"I -- I'm fine, Yeoman," he began. It was the last thing he remembered. 

 

_______________________ 

 

 

He opened his eyes. 

 

For a being who seldom slept the act was disconcerting, along with the sensation of laying horizontal.

The sounds of Sick Bay filtered into his mind, followed by smells, and the synaptic white noise of an active crew. He sat up. The sense of panic, and tension ... it was nearly gone. 

 

"How long?" he asked out loud. He looked around and spotted the first nurse to respond to his query. 

 

"Not long enough, sir," replied the nurse who moved to nudge him back down. He didn't move. 

 

"How. Long?" he asked again. The nurse sighed. "Two hours, sir. We're currently on our way to ... " 

 

He threw his legs over the side of the patient bed and began to rush for the exit. 

 

"STOP!" To his surprise he did, and glanced over his shoulder at the approaching nurse. Gibbs was stitched across her name tag. 

 

"Of all the pig headed behavior to come across my ward!" she began to mutter. "Are ALL of you officer types this gung-ho to drive yourself into an early grave?" 

 

"With all due respect, Nurse Gibbs, I'm Cap -- "

 

"SHUT IT!" 

 

He did and she stepped closer. Her hand came up and flicked off a single finger.

 

"One ... Admiral VanHorne is well, resting and IS NOT TO BE DISTURBED! It's bad enough I can't pull Lt. Osgoode from his side, but I'll be damned if I'll have  the likes of you to deal with!" 

 

He pulled his chin in. Message received. A second finger joined her first. 

 

"Two, the crew is well and settled. Repairs are underway, and Commander K'rilish is Acting CO until you are officially discharged! Is that clear?" 

 

Her tone would broke no argument. 

 

"And three ..." her voice softened. "Sir ... the Bonnie was lost. She ... " Gibbs faltered. "She broke apart and fell into the sun. There's ... there's nothing left of her ... Nothing, save that." 

 

She glanced down at his hand. 

 

"You've been holding that since you were beamed back. We couldn't even pry it from your hand when you passed out." 

 

Jexe lifted his hand and gazed at the object he was holding. He had grabbed it before he held up VanHorne to be transported back to the Phobos. It was scorched and scratched but fully intact.

 

"They say a ship is never lost as long as she's remembered." Her voice was soft and kind. 

 

"As long as she's remembered," he repeated. "Fortune Favors the Brave." 

 

"A ship is just her crew, sir. And a crew makes the ship. Don't worry, I have a feeling there are more stars out there. More of  ... this," she gestured taking in the entirety of the Phobos, but somehow he knew she meant more. 

 

"And this." She placed her hand over his heart. "You're a good man, Captain O'Dag. Because of you, because of people like Admiral VanHorne, Commander K'rilish, Lt. Savion, Dr. Mender and more ... the Federation will go on. She will. She'll endure, sir, with a bright future ahead." 

 

Jexe placed his hand over hers. 

 

"Damn, you've one hell of a bedside manner, Nurse Gibbs, but thank you."

 

She smiled. 

 

"And the night's still young. Now ... " 

 

She slide beside him, placed her hand on the small of his back and pushed. 

 

"I would very much like it if you'd get your ass back to bed before I tranq you where you stand ... sir." 

 

Jexe felt himself smile. It was the first time in a very long time. 

 

"Aye-Aye, sir!" 

 

He sketched her a salute. With a sly grin Nurse Gibbs turned away and began to make her rounds. The Titan chuckled lightly. If a single nurse could change the course of the high and mighty, there was still hope for them yet. Turning on his own heels the newly promoted Captain tucked the USS Bonaventure's dedication plaque under his arm and headed back to bed.  

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

NCC 2786

Bridge

 

On approach to Spacedock One

 

            The bridge was quiet.  The silence reminded K’rilish of the wake he had attended on Earth now decades ago.   It had been for the family member of a human officer he had known on the USS Sullivan.  Family and friends had gathered to honor the passing of the deceased, and it had been a quiet and grim affair that he had found disconcerting.

 

            He had missed the loss of the Bonaventure.  It’s fiery death had been quick, and devastating.   Only through the heroic efforts of Commander O’Dag, and the training of the crew, was Admiral Van Horne extracted from what had been a near certain death.    By the Caitian viewpoint, it was cause for celebration and appreciation, but K’rilish had served among the many races of Starfleet long enough to let the majority rule.  In this case the grim mood on the bridge necessitated his respectful silence. 

 

            But there was still a starship to run, and the business of adhering to duty.   The bridge crew knew this and although they went through the machinations of manning their stations, K’rilish knew that none of them were slacking off. 

 

            “ETA to Spacedock One,” K’rilish called out.  He looked to Owen, the most somber of the group.  

 

            “Fifteen minutes, Sir,” Owen said in a low voice.  “Spacedock Command is requesting that we make an external dock to airlock seventeen.  Their maintenance crews are still repairing the doors.” 

 

            K’rilish suppressed a grin.  The getaway that had damaged the massive doors of Spacedock One would no doubt survive history as an often told story.   Again, he had to keep his appearance in check.  Yes, he felt some sadness for the loss of the Bonaventure, but a good man had survived, although his condition was a cause for concern.  

 

            In fact, K’rilish was beginning to feel annoyed.  He had made repeated requests to sickbay as to the condition of Captain O’Dag and Admiral Van Horne that had not been answered.  He flicked a claw finger on the comm panel on the arm of the captain’s chair and he was about to make another request when the turbolift doors across the bridge opened.   The last person K’rilish wanted to see stepped out onto the bridge. 

 

“Nurse Gibbs,” K’rilish called out.   “Don’t you have patients to torment in sickbay?”

 

            “I do, but your constant requests as to the condition of Admiral Van Horne and Captain O’Dag has forced the doctor to send me up there to shut you up,” Nurse Gibbs shot back.   She walked to K’rilish and she held out a PADD for him to take.  “This is a full report.” 

 

            K’rilish took the PADD.  Some of the bridge crew were looking, no doubt curious as to the condition of both their fellow officers and comrades.   K’rilish flipped through the technical jargon.  His knowledge of medical terminology was limited to a basic medical responder’s course he took in Academy that was now horribly out of date.   From what he could tell Captain O’Dag would make a recovery, but he was still not fit for command. 

 

            As for Admiral Van Horne, his condition was much more serious.   Perhaps sensing his alarm, Nurse Gibbs spoke in a subdued voice that was betrayed by a sense of urgency.   “I cannot tell you how important it is that we get to Spacedock One, Commander,” she said. 

 

            “I understand,” said K’rilish.  “We are at full impulse, and we will rendezvous with Spacedock One in fifteen minutes.  We’ve already received a response that all available medical personnel will be standing by to assist us.”

 

            Nurse Gibbs reached out and she placed her hand on K’rilish’s forearm.   She leaned close and she whispered into K’rilish’s good ear.   “Doc Mender is requesting a site to site emergency transport once we are within range, Commander.  That’s how serious it is.” 

 

            K’rilish stared at Nurse Gibbs.  For a human woman as young a she was, she was behaving as if she were a seasoned veteran.   She understood the importance of keeping the bad news from the bridge crew who were within earshot.  Having witnessed the destruction of the Bonaventure, there was no telling how the crew would take the loss of her former captain. 

 

            “It will be done,” K’rilish said in a firm voice.

 

            “Thank you,” Nurse Gibbs answered.  She turned and she started for the turbolift.   She then stopped and she looked back at K’rilish who immediately noticed her sadistic grin had returned.  “Don’t worry, Commander, I haven’t forgotten about that ear of yours.  Doc Mender has approved my request to assist with the medical team on Earth given my specialty in Caitian physiology.  I’ll be in touch.” 

 

            The woman was sadistic.  K’rilish stared at her with bewilderment as she vanished into the turbolift.   He looked back at the bridge crew and he glared at those who were smirking.   He looked at the PADD with the medical report and he quickly deleted the report. 

 

            “How is he, Sir?”

 

            K’rilish looked to where Owen was seated at this station.  He looked as if he had aged ten years.   Given the condition of everyone else, himself included, K’rilish guessed that there was not a living soul on the Phobos who did not look as if they had aged during the last few days. 

 

            It was obvious that Owen was talking about Admiral Van Horne.  K’rilish could see that the other bridge crew were now looking at him. 

 

            “I’ll be honest.  The Admiral is in a tough spot,” K’rilish said, “but he is holding on as we all would expect him to do.  However, Doctor Mender is very optimistic that the Admiral will be around to see the launch of the next Bonaventure.”  

 

            It was a half-truth, and not the first of many that K’rilish had said, and would say over the course of his career… should he still have one.   Some of the bridge crew bought it, and gave appreciative nods.   Owen, however, seemed lost in thought.    After a minute he looked up at K’rilish again. 

 

            “Do you mind if I ask a question, Sir?  It’s somewhat personal.”

 

            “Go ahead,” K’rilish responded. 

 

            “I know you were not on the bridge when the Bonaventure burned up,” Owen began.  “It happened so fast that none us could imagine that it would actually happen.  You were aboard her when she was new.  I was just curious how you felt about her loss.

 

            “The Bonaventure was a ship. It was made of metal, plastics, and other material that are now being scattered across the solar winds,” K’rilish said.  He leveled his eyes at Owen.   “It is gone, and others live.  It served its purpose, and it was a good one.”

 

            The answer, combined with K’rilish gruff voice, was not what Owen or the others on the bridge were expecting.   He would play the commanding officer and tell half lies to them so they would not needlessly despair over the health of a comrade.  He would even engage in small talk, something he despised, to distract them, but he would never venture into the territory of emotional nonsense with him as the subject. 

 

            Perhaps he was a tad too gruff.   He gave a reluctant sigh and he leaned against the edge of the captain’s chair.   “Take heart in the fact that the individuals who were responsible for the Bonaventure’s destruction, and the harm that they brought against Admiral Van Horne and our Federation, will never know freedom again.   As a security officer, I know Federation law, and I know it well.  I can only wish I will be allowed to serve with the prosecution when those individuals are brought to justice.”

 

            “Hasn’t it always been the goal that even the worst offenders be given retribution?” Owen asked.  

 

            “Hope and reality are two different beasts,” K’rilish replied.  “If I had my way, LeBaron, P’ree, and the others would spend the rest of their lives sucking stale air out of a pressure suit while they mine dilithium from an asteroid.  Let them find retribution in the cold depths of space for all that I care.”

 

            Owen’s eyes glossed over and he seemed lost in thought again.  He blinked he looked at K’rilish.  “Sir, there is something that I need to do that is important.  May I have permission to leave the bridge for a few minutes?” 

 

            It was an unusual request, and had the situation been any different, K’rilish would have refused.  He doubted that there were any more rogue ships in service of the Optimum Movement that would appear on the way back to Earth.  

 

            “Permission granted,” K’rilish said. 

 

            Owen gave a quick nod and he hurried across the bridge toward the turbolift.  K’rilish had a good idea where he was going, but he gave the matter no further thought.  There would be no other time for him to handle the personal business that he sought.  

 

            _We all have our burdens_ ,  K’rilish thought. 

 

            From behind K’rilish, the young officer manning the tactical and communications station spoke up.   “Commander, Starfleet Command is asking if you are in need of an escort.  They seem quite adamant over your previous refusal to take one.” 

 

            “Not again!” K’rilish growled.  He spun the chair around, and found a moment of delight in doing so.   “You tell Starfleet Command that we do NOT need an escort.  This vessel is the flag ship of a Starfleet admiral and it is perfectly capable of arriving at a Starfleet installation under its own power.”

 

            “Yes, Sir” the officer said. 

 

            K’rilish spun the chair around toward the main views screen and he shook his head with annoyance.   There were some things in this “modern” Starfleet that he found had gone soft over the years, the least of which was giving proper respect to a ship of the line carrying a flag officer within the Sol Sector.   

 

Bristling at the lack of proper decorum, K’rilish looked across the bridge.  “We will return with our running lights on, and we will arrive as a flag ship should arrive.  When we disembark, we will do so with our uniforms in order and our boots polished. I will personally beach the career of anyone on this bridge who fails that objective.  Do I make myself clear?”

 

The nods from the crew were enough.  His point made, K’rilish ease back in the chair to enjoy the duration of his short lived command. 

 

There was still a ship to run, and he would see to it.

 

  



	7. ACT One Part 7

**McKinley Station**

**Seven years ago ...**

 

**_____________________________**

 

 

"You sure you're ready for this?"

 

"Yes. No ... maybe," said Owen.

 

The two best friends stood next to each to other in an auxiliary turbo lift.Their shuttle from the Bonnie had been re-routed to a lower space dock on the husky, tower-like space station, due to what their pilot had called a disturbance in the public docking bays. From the station's lower levels the two officers took the first lift they could to the upper promenade.

 

Owen re-crossed his arms.

 

"It's just a date, you know."

 

Jexe turned and looked his best friend with a wry grin.

 

"O-man, I've know you for a long time ... "

 

"Two years," fired back Cross with a smirk.

 

"Well, yeah, every since the other officers found and woke me, that's been my entire life," added the Ionic Titan.

 

The lift stopped and a group of Security Officers walked in. Waiting for the doors to close Jexe continued as the lift ascended.

 

"Anyway, in that time I've never seen you so ... "

 

"Pre-occupied?" asked the Science Officer.

 

"To put it mildly," added Jexe.

 

The lift stopped again and more Security guards entered, this time carrying stun batons. Shuffling back further into the lift the two officers talked with lowered voices.

 

"Anyway ... rumors are starting to fly and ... "

 

"Rumors!" half shouted Cross. All of the Security guards turned and looked at them for two hard whole seconds before facing front again.

 

"... whose spreading rumors?"

 

Jexe's face winced slightly as he leaned closer and lowered his voice.

 

"Just stuff I'm hearing." He shrugged. "Renn heard it from a yeomen on the Excelsior who heard it from a nurse's roommates's best friend's ... "

 

"Jexe ..." Owen fixed him with a hard stare.

 

"All right ... you and P'Ree are a heavy item."

 

"WHAT!"

 

Again the guards threw the men hard, suspicious looks as the lift stopped and another half-squad filled in, this time regaled in riot gear with plas-steel shields and phasers. One by one they turned away and began rolling their necks and cracking knuckles.

 

"Jesus ... we're just having dinner," breathed Owen in a hushed voice.

 

"Yeah ... but you like her, right?" asked Jexe.

 

Owen looked down and smiled with a far away look.

 

"I do. I won't lie to you, I want everything to go right, It's just..."

 

The Titan nodded.

 

"I know. You're a terrible first dater."

 

"Come one, I'm not that ... "

 

"One and a half years ago ... " replied the Titan as he counted off one finger. "You brought Yeomen Clair Klingon flowers ... "

 

"How was I suppose to know they were carnivorous!"

 

Another finger uncurled.

 

"Last year you took Ensign Karer to a retro Deltan Holo-flick festival ... "

 

Owen ran a hand down his face as he shook his head

 

"Which was all porn ... oh God, what was I thinking."

 

"Annnnd ... "

 

A third and final finger sprung up.

 

"On our last post you asked out an Admiral's daughter, in front of the Admiral ... which turned out to be his wife."

 

Owen buried his face in both his hands.

 

"All right, all right, so you've made your point ... I'm doomed."

 

He looked up at his best friend.

 

"So ... what do I do?"

 

"Look, you just ... "

 

"Girls like romance," interjected one of the Security officers as he half turned and looked over his shoulder.

 

"Yeah," said another as he fully turned to face the two officers. "You just need to set the mood. Nice lighting ... music ... "

 

"Wait," said a third. "You need to know her species, first. Is she Andorian? I used to date an Andorian and ... "

 

"No, she's Caitian," interjected Cross.

 

"Oooooouh!" chorused the group as one as every security officer turned to face them.

 

"Man, they're hot!"

 

"Yeah. The fur. The eyes ... "

 

"Oh tell me about it," shouted another.

 

"Dude, appeal to her senses. Aroma, music, food."

 

"Yeah. You should also get a full body facial. Take care of yourself -- manicure, pedicure."

 

"Dude ... you get pedicures?"

 

"Well ... occasionally."

 

"You should give her a gift!"

 

"Oh yeah. Books are good, like real books!"

 

"Boo-yeah! That's score material."

 

"No-no ... that's too obvious. You can't buy love. How about theater tickets?"

 

"A KITTEN!" shouted someone from the front of the lift.

 

"Dude, she's Caitian! That be like buying a human a monkey."

 

"Monkeys are cute."

 

"Yeah, I like monkeys."

 

"MONKEYS!! MONKEYS!!"

 

"NO! No Monkeys!"

 

A sudden silence filled the lift. Sobered, the guards turned to the front as the lift stopped and the doors opened. Past them the sounds of pandemonium rushed in -- screams, and the clamber of running feet, followed by a faint shouting of the words,

 

"I GOT A TICKET!!"

 

As one the guards rushed from the lift, hoisting shields and weapons, all save one. Turning he held up a warning hand.

 

"Sorry, sirs, but this sections under a lock-down effect. You'll have to find another exit."

 

With that the guard snapped his visor down and rushed after his squad. The doors closed and the lift rose to the next deck.

 

"Well, that was ..." began Jexe.

 

"Yeah," finished Cross.

 

The turbo-lift stopped and opened up once more on another level of the promenade. Jexe turned to his best friend. "Look, Owen, just be yourself. You and P'Ree have already been through a lot together. The ice is broken. What ever you do ... just have fun."

 

Owen nodded before he pulled a confident grin.

 

"I think I can do that."

 

"Good."

 

The Titan hook his chin towards the open doors.

 

"I have to meet the Captain and the others at the Captain's Table. I have a feeling I'll be gone for hours. Why don't you make dinner for you and P'Ree in our quarters? You'll be away from prying eyes."

 

That's ... a great idea!" said Owen, excitement growing in his voice.

 

"Just remember one thing ... no monkeys!" With another wry grin the Titan walked out.

 


	8. ACT One Part 8

**USS Phobos**

**Now ...**

 

 

 

**Schweep!**

 

The door opened and the Officer stood at attention. 

 

"As you were," said Owen. The CPO2 relaxed his shoulders on the other side of Security's reception console. He fixed Owen with his best curious look. It was the only way to suppress what everyone knew was inevitable - Owen's visit.

 

"I'd like ... " The Science Officer's face drew tight with an inner pain. He looked down, gathered his thoughts then bravely lifted his chin. "I'd like to see one of the prisoners," he asked. 

 

The Security Officer nodded and pressed a single button on his console. Something buzzed in the recesses of Security. Moment's later a Master Sergeant approached whose hard eyes promised to broke no nonsense from anyone. They reminded Owen of T'Mel, the Bonnie's former Security Chief. 

 

"Lt. Cross has requested to see a prisoner, Sir." 

 

The Master Sergeant's hard gaze screened the Science Officer from head to toe. Owen bore it well and gazed back unflinchingly. 

 

"We've enacted some new security protocols since Dr. Mender's visit, Lt. Cross. The force screens on the prisoner's cells have been opaqued to add to their isolation.  Additionally your wi ... "  The Master Sergeant caught herself. 

 

" ... Prisoner P'Ree's hands, feet and tail have been encased with covering restraints to prevent her from harming others ... or herself." 

 

A cold shudder ran down Owen's spine. He remembered finding Copestick's suicide tooth. It had never occurred to him that P'Ree could do the same. 

 

"I understand," he replied. His own voice sounded distant. He took a step forward only to be stopped by the Sergeant's warding hand. 

 

"Sorry, sir. I need to scan you first." 

 

Owen's mouth half opened in objection, but he caught himself as the full implication of her words sunk in. Despite his actions against the Optimums, as P'Ree's husband Owen  wasn't fully trusted, least not in matters that concerned his wife. Stepping back he raised his hands. 

 

"Fine." 

 

The Master Sergeant scanned him with a Tricorder. 

 

"There's an unusual object in your pocket, Sir. What is it?" 

 

Owen withdrew it and held it up. 

 

"Is that a ... ?" asked the Sergeant. 

 

Owen nodded. 

 

"I have no plans on giving it to her, and if I did, it's too big to swallow." He shrugged. "You know, to kill herself with. Since her hands are restrained I also doubt she could  use it as a bludgeon." 

 

The Master Sergeant seamed torn until she met Owen's eyes. 

 

"Please. It's ... it's important," he added. "It may be all I have left of ... " Owen looked over her shoulder and down the corridor to the brig. "... of us." 

 

"Very well, sir, but you can't leave it in the brig area." 

 

Owen put it back in his pocket. 

 

"I won't. I'd just like to leave it by the brig's vent when I leave." 

 

"That should be fine. Should I let the prisoner know you're coming?"

 

Owen shook his head. 

 

"No need. She caught my scent the moment I stepped out of the turbo lift.  

 

 

 


	9. ACT One part 9

 

**USS Bonaventure**

**Seven years ago ...**

 

 

Thirty minutes later Owen was back in his officer's quarter on board the Bonaventure with an arms full of packages. The furnishing were more spacious than his and Jexe's last posting, a reality that was still hard to believe. There was a large common room with a dining area with skylight view ports above, and a small modern galley with food storage modules and preparations facilities. A full bathroom was then set between to bedrooms with portside views along the ship's saucer section. Along one wall was an officers desk and computer work station complete with comm. and log dictation panels. Next to the desk was a wide comm./entertainment screen framed by floor to ceiling bookshelves.

 

It would be home for the future to come.

 

"Right," he said as he put down his items. "First thing ... new carpet smell."

 

With that he removed the heaviest items from a box as he unbuttoned his uniform jacket and began to roll up his sleeves. The Bonnie was new, and smelled that way -- fresh off the refit yards.

 

Another fifteen minutes later and Owen was done - the room was transformed. The lighting had been set to a low key setting, allowing the sun to filter through the room's skylights and view port windows. Along the walls were two of his mother's watercolors paintings - landscapes, one of the few things that he had from his deceased parents. Best of all the room's chemical smell had improved. Set about the quarters were half a dozen Dolen stones, rare rocks that he had borrowed from a geologist friend on McKinley station. The stones absorbed a full seasons worth of smells from whichever world they were on, and released when heated. The room had a crisp, autumn like smell.

 

Next he addressed the room's AI as he placed a small data crystal in the entertainment module.

 

"Computer set musical sequence for Cross number fourteen on 'music' audio command."

 

He had decided to have Andorian Jazz as background ambience. He was almost done. Moving towards the galley he had one thing left to do. Prepare the meal. Taking the produce items from several boxes he set to work making mushroom-Gideon olive angel hair pasta with a guava, mango salad, tuscan garlic bread and a few bottles of pinot noir wine. For dessert ... he hadn't figured that one out, but he had a few ideas.

 

As he worked he lost track of time, but expected P'Ree would be arriving soon. Setting the food to warm he headed for the bathroom for a shower and shave. Clean, he next decided on a casual civilian attire that was neither too dressy or ... well, underdressed.

 

He hoped he looked good.

 


	10. ACT One Part 10

**USS Phobos**

**Now ...**

 

"Why are you here?" 

 

The sound of her voice on the other side of the opaque screen nearly jared him to tears. Owen looked up at one of the Security sensors that lined the hall of the Brig. He knew he was being monitored by the Master Sergeant. Moment's later the force screen over P'Ree's cell drew clear. 

 

His heart jumped. 

 

"P'Ree ... " 

 

She was beautiful and different at the same time. Her fur, once silky and luxurious, had lost some of its shine. Her posture, once elegant and refined was slightly bowed, if only a little with age. But it was her eyes that struck him the most. They hadn't changed a day. They were just as beautiful as ever. 

 

"Little Owen." She smiled revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth. Gathering herself she stood as best she could and Owen saw the full array of restraints covering her claws and tail. 

 

"Have you come to woe me back to your arms? Hmm ... ?" 

 

They looked at one another, and the days and years between could suddenly be felt. Finally, Owen spoke. 

 

"Have a really lost you?" he asked. P'Ree threw her head back and laughed uproariously. 

 

"Lost? LOST! Oh, you moronic fool! You never lost me. You freed me!" 

 

Her muscles flexed and she struck the force screen - hard, sending a backlash of energy across her body. Her fur stood on end, but she took the pain. To her surprise Owen hadn't moved an inch. She backed up, weary but defiant. 

 

"Our pathetic relationship ... our _pathetic_ marriage made me realize what the Federation had truly done to me. Do you know what that is?" 

 

She stepped closer until her nose nearly touched the screen. Owen shook his head. 

 

"It. Made. Me. Weak! And it took Captain Le Baron to make me see this. Once I let go of us I became reborn. I became ... optimum." her lips curled into a silky smile. 

 

Owen hooked his chin over her shoulder indicating her cell. 

 

"To what end?" he asked. She tracked his gaze and swung back. 

 

"This?" she asked with a laugh. "You truly believe this is the end?" 

 

"I think these are the consequences. And ... I think little by little, hour by hour you're beginning to believe that too." 

 

Her eyes glared at his, but she said nothing. Slowly she turned and made her way back to her bunk. 

 

"I grow tired of this conversation. I release you, Owen. Go. Find yourself a new life -- a new wife, and darken my door no more." 

 

"Can't do that, P'Ree." 

 

"WHY?" She whirled, fur bristling with rage. Her husband beamed at her with a boyish grin. 

 

"Because I love you," he said. His eyes grew hot. "And ... I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you were lost. I'm ... so sorry I couldn't protect you for what they did to you, for the years we've lost together, but I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere. " 

 

She saw his hand move and produce the object from his pocket. P'Ree's eyes drew wide with shock, and for the first time since they spoke she was stunned into silence. 

 

"I kind of forgot to return this to McKinley station," he said adding more curl to his grin. The Dolen stone in his palm gave off glints of light. P'Ree stood and stepped  towards it, her eyes growing moist. 

 

"You once told me that smells are the most sacred sense among Caitians, that no other sense binds them to memory and the bonds they make." 

 

He looked at the stone. 

 

"I think over the years the stone's lost the smell of the autumn woods it once had, and replaced it with something else." 

 

His eyes met hers. 

 

"Us. Our home, and the years we've had together." 

 

"You can't do this," she whispered. Her ears flattened against her head. 

 

"Can I? If you're as strong as you claim then this shouldn't matter." 

 

He half shrugged, flipped the stone and caught it. 

 

But I think it will. I think you never did let us go, P'Ree. I ... I think you buried us, you had to in order to survive, both Le Baron, and the years we were apart. But it's over now.  You've come home. It's over, P'Ree. The nightmare's over." 

 

The Caitian's eyes shone with torment and wonder. Her shackled hands reached for the stone. 

 

 **BZZZAST!**  

 

The backlash knocked her back and a torrent of curses spilled from her lips in anger and pain. 

 

"GET OUT OF HERE!" she screamed. "I HATE YOU OWEN CROSS. I **HATE** YOU!!" 

 

Owen placed the stone back in his pocket. 

 

"Hate what's become of us, P'Ree, but I'm not giving up. I Can't." 

 

Closing his eyes he forced himself to turn away and begin the long walk down the hallway of the Brig. P'Ree's curses haunted him every step of the way.  

 


	11. ACT One Part 11

**USS Bonaventure**

**Seven years ago ...**

 

Heading back to the galley he crossed his arms over his chest and began to think abut the dessert. P'Ree would be here soon. He was nervous, but eagerly looking forward to the evening to come. Just as he began to settle on a few ideas the door chime sounded.

 

His heart literally leapt into his throat, but it was a heady anticipation, one he wanted to savor. Drying his hands off in the galley he said,

 

"Music," commanding the room's AI to begin playing his private collection of Andorian Jazz as he headed towards the door. Taking a deep breath he pressed the 'open' stud.

 

P'Ree stood on the other side. Not the P'Ree had had first met on the bridge of the Oberth. The woman before him now as ... stunning (not that she wasn't before). Dressed in an elegant manner she was both feminine and feline at the same time, with sleek curves and lines, ones that he instantly realized were normally (and criminally)  hidden by her uniform jacket and pants.

 

His mouth fell open nearly as broad as his eyes widen. He was completely speechless. Fortunately for him P'Ree hadn't seem to notice his stunned reaction as her tail (could anything be more sexier?) swished back and forth as her head lifted to the room's smells and decor while her ears perked up. Swallowing down his dry throat Owen resurrected his power of speech.

 

"Hi. Come on in," he said as he stepped aside and allowed her to enter.

 

She looked over at him, smiling. Her tail's swishing had accelerated, and her ears had perked up as she took in the music. She walked slowly into his quarters, nose sniffing the air for the source of the Dolen stones.

 

"How did you get that smell in here?" she asked. "It's so lovely."

 

Owen exhaled with a sigh of relief (she liked what he had done with the quarters).

 

"Thanks," he added as he guided her over to one of the stones set on a sideboard by the entrance door. Lifting it for her he explained about their

abilities to absorb atmospheric aromas. Suddenly, he stopped in mid-sentence as he shook his head.

 

"Wait! What am I doing?" he said. Stepping back he fully looked at her.

 

"I'm sorry ... but P'Ree ... you look amazing! I ... I can't believe someone  as beautiful as you is actually in the same room with me!" said the Science Officer.

 

P'Ree's ears perked up at the compliment. "I cannot believe that I am a room as beautiful as this on a starship. Starfleet engineers spend so little time developing starships' interior smell. The life support systems on Caitian ships are designed to emit a constant, pleasing, aroma into the air. It makes life in space much more bearable for us." 

 

She thought for a minute, then added, 

 

"I think that is why so few Caitians join Starfleet. We'd rather serve on our own ships, even if they usually never leave our home systems."

 

Owen smiled as he gestured towards the common area where there was a comfortable leather couch set near a coffee table where more Dolen stones were set along with an odd looking headset and visor.

 

"Would you like a glass of wine? I was just about to start dessert, but if you're hungry we can eat now if you'd like?'

 

P'Ree shook her head as she sat down on the couch beside Owen. 

 

"Glass of wine, yes. Dinner, no. I'd like to just drink in this atmosphere you've created for a few minutes." She rested a hand on one of his and added "Not to mention the company. There is an old saying: 'Good company can make the most noxious smell beautiful, and bad company the most beautiful smell noxious."

 

Owen smiled again and softly laughed, enjoying the feel of her hand on his.

 

"I hope I can make both to your liking."

 

Moving away towards the galley he opened a bottle of wine, poured two glasses and carried them back to the couch. Sitting down he passed her a glass, shaking his head again over how lovely she looked. She sipped at the wine and he he couldn't help but to watch how she savored the taste - the tilt of her head, the set of her shoulders and tail. Her eyes.

 

"Very lovely," she said. "Goes well with the decor you've selected," she observed, sniffing the air deeply again.

 

"Thanks. It's from my family's vineyard back on Piihtukiwaau Colony. It ... along with the stones, remind me the most of home."

 

"Thank you for going to all this trouble, Owen. It means a lot."

 

He shook his head, placed his glass on the coffee table and moved closer.

 

"We're about to start a new mission ... a new commission. What we've been through in the past few days ... "

 

Sitting back in the couch so that their shoulders touched he looked across the room as if taking in the entire galaxy in a single glance.

 

" ... I think we'd go crazy if we didn't have a bit of normalcy to center us. Some times ...it's just nice to put the uniform away and just be ... off duty."

 

**_____________________________**

 

**Lt. Owen Cross**

**Science Officer**

**USS Bonaventure NCC-1745**

 


	12. ACT ONE part 12

USS Phobos  
NCC-2786  
Security

____________________

The Caitian's eyes shone with torment and wonder. Her shackled hands reached for the stone. 

BZZZAST! 

The backlash knocked her back and a torrent of curses spilled from her lips in anger and pain. 

"GET OUT OF HERE!" she screamed. "I HATE YOU OWEN CROSS. I HATE YOU!!" 

Owen placed the stone back in his pocket. 

"Hate what's become of us, P'Ree, but I'm not giving up. I Can't." 

Closing his eyes he forced himself to turn away and begin the long walk down the hallway of the Brig. P'Ree's curses haunted him every step of the way.  The sound of laughter suddenly gave him pause. It came from behind another opaque screen and Owen stopped. 

"You know, she'll never love you," said the voice on the other side. "She's too infatuated with your fearless leader, Admiral VanHorne." 

Owen's eyes burned at the ebony screen before he faced the Security sensor embedded in the ceiling. 

"Make it clear," he demanded. Nothing happened. "Make. It. CLEAR!" Moments passed and the opaqueness faded away. Former Captain Damien Le Baron stood on the other side, arms crossed over his chest in resolute. His face was a battlefield of cuts and bruises. 

"Hello, wonder-boy," he said with an ugly grin. 

"Jesus ... you look like shit,"  replied the Science Officer. He chuckled and arched his brow. The sharp line of Le Baron's grin drew longer as he gingerly touched his face. 

"This? This is the face of a warrior, something you know nothing ab -- " 

"No ... no, no, no  .... " Owen held up a hand doing his best not to laugh. "I mean ... you look like the piece of shit I imagined. You know, I half expected you'd be more intimidating in person, someone with ... " He shrugged. "I don't know ... presence, maybe. But now that I see you ... you're just ... sad and pathetic. No wonder you got your ass kicked so easily." 

Le Baron's face curdled into anger. 

"Cute. You think you're funny, don't you? You think you're safe just because you're on the other side of that screen? Shall I tell you what I told K'rillish, little boy?  My reach goes well beyond these -- " 

Owen spoke two words and Le Baron paused. His face began to pale. This time it was the Science Officer's turn to pull a cunning grin. 

"Thought you'd recognize that name. Technically they're mind-controlling eels, but they're more commonly called Neural Parasites. You probably even know that we had a   
horrific encounter with a version of the species about a year ago on the Bonnie. Hell, you're probably used then yourself as head of the Optimums." 

He stepped closer to the screen. 

"Perhaps even on my wife!" 

Le Baron licked his lips. Seeds of sweat began to pepper his brow. Owen let the moment linger then said, 

"What you may not know is P'Ree did a full research study on the species after that mission. She is, if you remember, a Xeno-biologist. She discovered  
how the creatures interfaced with a being's brain stem making it susceptible to mental suggestions. She had planned to write a paper with hopes of   
applying the finding to criminal rehabilitation. We even worked out an interface device, but we never got to beta test it, because ... and this is the ironic part." 

His eyes grew hard. 

"The device caused spastic agony beyond all measure when connected to a subject." 

Le Baron blinked several times. 

"So we abandoned the project. We realized that it could also be used as a torture device no different than the real parasites themselves." 

"The Federation would never use such a thing," interjected the former Captain. "Their antiquated sense of morality would prevent them. It's why they're weak!" 

Le Baron's smirk returned.

"Maybe," said Owen. "Tell me ... do you know who Rear Admiral Peter Liverakos II is?" 

"Liverakos? As in the Judge Advocate General of Starfleet?" replied Le Baron carefully.

"Exactly." Owen's cunning look beamed brighter. "What you may not know is that the Rear Admiral is divorced and has only one child. His wife was sixteen years younger than him, so I guess things didn't work. After the divorce their child took on her mother's maiden name, a daughter who went on to be accepted into Starfleet Academy. After her first year she found herself assigned to a science vessel. Probably her father's influence to keep her out of harms way."

"What ... what are you saying?" 

"I'm saying this daughter was the only surviving Cadet on the USS Tyson. A Cadet who was later brutally murdered by one of your Optimum thugs. Her name was Claire Laroche.  
She was Admiral Liverakos' only daughter. You killed her, Le Baron. The Optimum's killed her in cold blood." 

The former leader stumbled away from the screen.  

"I've sent a letter to the Admiral mentioning P'Ree's device and how it could be improved to painlessly interface with a subject. I'm hoping it may help rehabilitate my wife, but  ... " 

Owen crossed his arms over his chest. 

"But that's gonna take some live subject trials to get that right. Wonder who we could test it on?" 

"You're ... insane," stammered Le Baron. "Starfleet would never -- " 

"Would they? You scared a great number of people, Le Baron. You've crossed lines you should never have crossed, especially one." 

Owen's eyes bored into his. He spoke through clinched teeth.

"You don't mess with another man's wife!" 

Le Baron grit his teeth as the knobs of his jaw rolled under his skin. 

"You think I'm afraid of your paltry threats, boy? Do you!" 

Owen's expression softened. 

"Afraid? No, I think you're terrified!" 

The words echoed down the hall.

"You look at me and think I'm nothing more than a gifted theoretical physicist, but you're wrong. Like all scientist I'm a trained observer,  
and when your best friend is an Ionic Titan and you're married to a Caitian you learn a thing or two about sensory observation." 

He hooked his chin. 

"Take for example your arms folded over your chest because your palms are sweaty, and you need to shield yourself. Take for instance how red  
your ears are now because of the blood rushing through your head, or that you haven't stop standing on the balls of your feet because you want to run." 

Owen's voice lowered to a whisper. 

"You're so terrified right now you can feel you're heart hammering against your chest. You want nothing more than to get away." 

The Science Officer's glance took in the force screen before him. 

"But you can't. Maybe you're good at hiding it Le Baron but you're terrified of what's coming." 

"And what's that?" he asked defiantly. 

"Pay back. Cruel, cold blooded payback. What I've proposed is just the beginning. Others are waiting their turn. Others ... are sharpening their knives." 

Owen arched his brow. With a cheeky grin he turn away. 

"Be seeing you, Le Baron. Give my regards to Admiral Liverakos."

The former Captain rushed the screen as Owen walked off. 

"You think you can break me, Cross! Better men than you have tried. You hear me? CROSSSSSS! You hear ME!" 

Le Baron's screen grew opaque and with it the sound of his voice. Owen walked with his head bowed low and his hands in his pockets. The lights around him swelled as he passed from the Brig and into the Security ward. The Master Sergeant was waiting for him. 

"Sir ... was -- was all of that true?" she asked. Owen knew she'd been listening in. Looking over his shoulder, back the way he came, he half shrugged.

"Does it matter? Nothing anyone does can be worse than what's already in his head. He's living in his own hell right now, and the waiting's the hardest part." 

The Master Sergeant shared his look. 

"I almost pity him," she whispered. "Almost." 

Owen looked back to her. 

"You may be the only one. Me? I won't cry a river." 

He reached into his pocket and passed her the dolen stone. The Master Sergeant nodded and placed her over hand over his.

"I'll see that it's placed near a vent." 

"Thanks." 

His smile was friendly as he headed for the exit. Behind him the Master Sergeant called out to the CPO2 at the reception desk. 

"Let's see if we can drum up some entertainment for Captain Le Baron, shall we? Something subtle and quiet from our science library." 

"Outstanding, Sir. How about ... 'Sounds of Arachnids Scurrying About'?" 

The doors to Security parted and Owen walked out, a pleasant grin was on his face. He carried it all the way back to the Bridge. 

____________________

Lt. Owen Cross  
Science Officer  
USS Bonaventure


	13. ACT ONE part 13

Spacedock One

Sector 001

Earth

 

            The last time K’rilish saw Spacedock One, it had been from the Bonaventure.  They had arrived under the spectacle of a media frenzy with almost every reporter from every news outlet in the alpha quadrant riding out in shuttle craft and private vessels to get pictures of the wounded vessel.    It had been an ugly sight that tested K’rilish’s patience and that of his superiors. 

 

            This time, however, things had changed.   They were arriving late Earth time, but given that the news of the near assassination of President Rhagoratreii, K’rilish had expected another media assault.    Staring at the main view screen, he looked on with near disbelief at the peaceful image.  There were other vessels around the space station, but none of them were making their way toward the Phobos. 

 

            “I think someone in Starfleet Command is keeping the wolves at bay,” K’rilish called out.   He looked toward the cadet communications officer.   “Any word?”

 

            “Just a welcoming hail, Sir, and a reminder to proceed to airlock seventeen.  Spacedock Command is sending tenders our way.”

 

            It was the standard docking process, and the Phobos crew would already be in motion.  K’rilish kept his eyes on the screen and he leaned back in the chair.   He heard a soft, familiar beep from the communications counsel. 

 

            So much for a moment of peace.

 

            “I have two messages, Sir,” the cadet said.   “Sickbay has confirmed that Admiral Van Horne has been transported to Spacedock One.   There is also an incoming communication from Admiral Cheng of Starfleet Command.” 

 

            “Now it happens,” K’rilish said.  He stood up.  “Route the message to the ready room.”

 

            One of the newest features of the Phobos was the captain’s ready room, yet another one of those little perks that every officer seeking command would dream about.   The ready room on the Phobos was no larger than a closet with an absurdly small desk, computer counsel, and two chairs.   K’rilish stepped through the doorway near the turbolift and he shoved himself into the tiny desk that had, just days earlier, accommodated three good men.

 

            Once he was sure that he didn’t look like a fool sitting in the confined space, K’rilish tapped a claw on the computer counsel.   The Starfleet logo appeared for a second and the almond shaped face of Admiral Cheng appeared.  He was a slender man in his mid-fifties with hair greying at the temples and the complexion of an individual who seemed to be the friendly type when he was off duty.  

 

            “Lieutenant Commander, K’rilish,” Admiral Cheng said in a warm enough voice.  “How are you?”

 

            “Fine, Admiral,” K’rilish answered.  “How can I help you, Sir?”

 

            “I called to inform you that your arrival will be a quiet one,” Admiral Cheng began.  “As you have undoubtedly noticed by now, of course.   Most of the media people are in Paris anyway preparing for the President’s return and for the speech that he has planned tomorrow.   Quite surprisingly, nearly all of the media outlets have agreed to our request to allow your return to be a private one.”

 

            “Write that one on the wall, Sir,” K’rilish said with a smile.  He paused before he spoke again.  “How has the news fared, Sir?”

 

“As best as we can expect, “Admiral Cheng said.  “It doesn’t help that the President is intent on letting the public know about everything that has happened.  We at Starfleet Command were hoping he would allow some degree of discretion especially considering the events that transpired in the Solar System.   The spectacle of our own ships fighting it out so close to home is embarrassing regardless of the circumstances.”

 

            K’rilish shrugged.   “Maybe the President has become tired of cover-ups.”

 

            Admiral Cheng’s frown deepened.  “Perhaps,” he added.  “Regardless, of his motives, the President does understand the importance of a proper investigation for sake of the public record.   It is important that the facts stand on their own merit and nothing is overlooked. 

 

            “As of now, both crews of the Phobos and the Bonaventure are on leave.   You, Lieutenant Commander, will ensure that all personnel are transferred to Earth-side for immediate debriefing.  I’m afraid that no one cannot go anywhere until we have everyone’s accounts of the recent events on file.  We will make it as painless as possible.  I promise.”

 

            “I do have a recommendation,” K’rilish added.  He leaned close to the monitor.   “Let the crews stay where they wish.  Some of them have homes on Earth.   They will not leave the planet as ordered, but they must be allowed to given the freedom of choosing where they wish to stay.”

 

            There was a moment while Admiral Cheng considered the logistics of the request.  It was not overly difficult especially when a Starfleet officer or crewman could easily transport across the planet in a matter of minutes. 

 

            “May I ask the reason for such a request?” Admiral Cheng asked. 

 

            “Because these people, especially those of the Bonaventure, were practically held hostage on Spacedock One the last time they came home.   Pardon my being blunt, but Starfleet Command will go a long way in restoring their trust and confidence if it doesn’t force them to stay in one place with security personnel watching their every move.  I’m sure your urgent debriefing can hold off long enough for them to see their families and the opportunity to see the sky for a change.”

 

            It was what Admiral Van Horne or Commander O’Dag would demand.  A commanding officer of any caliber would place the needs of their crew before their own needs or even that of a higher authority.   Anything less was an abrogation of an officer’s oath. 

 

            The lines on Admiral’s Cheng’s face softened a little, perhaps due to the fact that he had commanded his own starship at one time.  He gave a reluctant sigh.   “Very well,” he said at last.  “I will let the crews stay where they wish on Earth and allow a twenty four hour leeway, but that is it.  We must have their testimonies.”

           

            “They will not disappoint you, Sir,” said K’rilish.   “Is that all, Admiral?”

 

            K’rilish was about to move his paw to disconnect the transmission when Admiral Cheng shook his head.   “There is just one matter, Lieutenant Commander.  It was an issue we were going to deal with upon the Bonaventure’s last return, but the recent events prevented that.”

 

            “What is it?” K’rilish asked. 

 

            Admiral Cheng leaned forward until his face filled the entire screen of the monitor.  “ _You_ , Lieutenant Commander.”

  


            When K’rilish returned to the bridge, he saw that the bridge crew was bustling with conversation.   The moment Admiral Chen had accepted K’rilish’s request, his adjutant has passed the word through the official channels.    Leave was always information that seemed to travel through a starship faster than the speed of light.    Everyone suspected the debriefings, but a twenty four hour lull had been unexpected if not unusual.  The fact that the crew knew they could contact family members, or visit their homes had brought a much needed atmosphere of cheer and excitement throughout the Phobos.

 

            “Report!” K’rilish called out.   His voice was like a clap of thunder throughout the bridge.

 

            The officer at the helm station quickly called out.   “We are docked with Spacedock One, and at station keeping, Sir.   Spacedock Command sends their welcome and they forgive us for wrecking their doors.”

 

            “That’s awful nice of them,” K’rilish muttered.  “What’s the status of our wounded?”

 

            “They are being transported as we speak, Sir.   Starfleet Security along with members of The Federation Security Bureau are transferring the prisoners.” 

 

            K’rilish wondered if Owen had finished his personal business.  He walked over to the captain’s chair and he stared at the controls on the arm.  He inserted his security code and within the span of half a second, he downloaded the Phobos’ logs to Starfleet Command.   He then tapped the button on the comm panel and he activated the ship wide channel. 

 

            “This Lieutenant Commander K’rilish, acting commanding officer of the USS Phobos.   We have arrived at Spacedock One, and effectively immediately, we are on leave.   I wish to thank you all for your hard work, your sacrifice, and your dedication to duty.   You will all be informed by your department heads what will be expected of you during the next few days, but for now, I wish you all the best.   All departments will begin the process of transferring their stations to Spacedock One control.  Further orders will follow from Spacedock Command.” 

 

            It was over.  K’rilish flicked the switch and he stood up.    He looked around the bridge, and to the helm officer.  

 

            “I will need a shuttle ready once the last of the crew has left the ship, Ensign.  I will be in the ready room until then.”

 

            “Yes, Sir,” the smiling ensign said.  He then paused.  “May I ask where you are going, Sir?”

 

            K’rilish walked toward the ready room.  He spoke without looking back at the ensign.

 

           “No, you may not.”

 


	14. ACT ONE "Homecoming Once Again"

"Kerov-ahm, you must wake up." T'Val gently put her hand on Savion's shoulder and shook it carefully. He was so tired from his blood donation, but... she leaned closer to him as another thought occurred to her. She whispered into his ear – and it worked. Savion's eyes snapped open and he jumped. T'Val had wisely withdrawn as soon as she had whispered her select phrase to him so as not to be in his way.  
  
"Be at peace, Kerov-ahm." she said to him. "I was unable to wake you any other way."  
  
"Oh man." Savion said. "Well, it worked and you got my attention. I should be surprised you still know that, but you really don't forget anything, do you?" He had a small half-smile on his lips that made T'Val think of other matters, for a brief moment.  
  
"I do have an excellent memory, Kerov-ahm". She allowed herself the same small smile he had given her. "Even amongst my people. It does at time serve me well." She ran her fingers gently down the side of his face. He gave her a quizzical look and she wished – not for the first time since her revelation – that she could tell him how she did feel.  
  
But then was not the time nor was it now.  
  
"The Phobos has docked at Spacedock, Kerov-ahm. All crew are ordered to debark as soon as possible. I have the orders on a PADD for you to look at. You must prepare yourself and I have done so myself to let you rest as long as possible."  
  
Savion focused his eyes- he was still dreadfully tired – and saw that T'Val was nearly ready, in her Starfleet uniform minus the jacket.  
  
"Thanks, T'Val, really. I should take a shower then, to feel a bit fresher and to wake up a bit more."  
  
"I have to go to the Quartermaster to obtain a new jacket." T'Val said. "I have not had time since arriving to get my own jacket cleaned and tended to."

Yes, her jacket was in rough condition, he recalled. Being a hostage on a nearly dead ship didn't allow her to maintain her usual standards.  
  
"Do you require anything while I am there, Kerov-ahm?"  
  
"No, I don't think so... wait! Yes, I do. I need my proper rank insignia. If you wouldn't mind...?"  
  
T'Val rose smoothly from her sitting position on the edge of the bed. "Of course not. I shall return shortly." She turned to leave, looked like she was going to say something else, but changed her mind. With a look to Savion that confused him a bit more, she left her quarters.  
  
[She sure has been acting oddly lately] he though. At least his fingers stopped tingling as well as his lips. He moved quickly - "efficiently" he told himself – to shower, which did help wake him up a bit. He got his uniform pants and undershirt on and was just finishing reading the PADD that T'Val had indicated to him when she returned, wearing her new jacket. "I spoke to the Quartermaster regarding the state of your assigned quarters, Kerov-ahm" He groaned inwardly. He hoped that she hadn't made things worse. However, to her he looked interested and said "Ah, yes. Did they have anything to say about that?"  
  
"They seemed unaware of the condition of that compartment. They apologized for the inappropriate assignment. They had this for you." She held out a PADD, which he took.  
  
"Ah. My orders, apparently." He looked up at T'Val. "I just read yours, so it would be only fair for you to do likewise to mine." He flipped the PADD around and offered it to her. "Go ahead, it won't bite." He winked at her. To his surprise, she seemed to appear to blush a little, but she took it.  
  
After a moment, she looked up at him. "There appears to be no difference in orders. Where are you planning on going?"  
  
Savion took his jacket off the hanger in the closest. "Did you get the rank pins?" T'Val blinked, shrugged her left hand and held out two Lieutenant pins. "Ah, thanks!" He took them and started attaching them to his jacket.  
  
"I'm going to go to Starfleet Medical." T'Val raised an eyebrow.  
  
"That does not appear to be logical, Kerov-ahm. Every Bonny crew member has 24 hours to be where they wish to be, before reporting for debriefing."  
  


"Yes, that is correct. However, there is one thing you've overlooked.” T'Val gave him *that* look again – the one that said "No I didn't". He would have smiled and joked with her, but not this time.  
  
"The orders also state that crew may spend it with family or go home. I have no family here; nor is there any place for me to 'go home' to here on Earth."  
  
"Then come with me to the Embassy. You can.." He held up his hand.  
  
"No. I can't. And I'll tell you why."  
  
He looked up at T'Val's face, which suddenly seemed sad. He took a deep breath. "You've been a hostage, snatched without a word. Your parents are undoubtedly concerned for you. You need this time to be with them. My presence there... is unneeded."  
  
T'Val leaned forward and put her hands on his shoulders. "That is untrue, Kerov-ahm! You are needed."  
  
"Oh, T'Val." Savion ran his fingers down T'Val's face like she had done to him a little earlier. "I'm exhausted. I would be spending all of my time sleeping. You, your mother – would be more concerned about my condition instead of the time you both need to be with each other, and your father. What I need is to rest somewhere, recovering my strength for our debriefing. And there's something else, from what you told me before you insisted I sleep here - the civil suit. I don't doubt your memory, not for one minute. But if I am a primary subject in this as you say, then me coming to your home will probably not only be observed, but used against both of us, if this goes to trial."  
  
"I will probably find that I have a copy of this suit waiting for me before I even go to debriefing. For the sake of both of us, T'Val... if you and I have any future together... then we have to do things this way. Besides, I'm sure that you can find out where I am one way or another, right?"  
  
He glanced quickly at her hands still on his shoulders and took a deep breath. "Since you're already half-way there, do you have a hug for me, before we leave?"  
  
T'Val's face was unreadable again, but she moved her hands; changing their position and in a moment, she was hugging Savion – and he returned it. They stayed like that for a moment and he felt in the time they held that embrace, that he truly belonged somewhere. That spell ended all too soon and T'Val returned his look as they moved apart.  
  
"Kerov-ahm" she said, softly. "T'hy'la. Ki'sarlah nash-veh-tor ashaya tu."  
  
Savion felt himself making a face. "You know I don't understand Vulcan, at least not very well. I have no idea what you just said."

"I know." she said. "You will, when you are ready to be honest with yourself, then I can be honest with you."  
  
Savion returned the quizzical look she'd given him earlier. [Oh my god] he thought. [Is she saying what I think she's trying to say?]  
  
"Now that you've got your pins set, let me assist you with your jacket, Kerov-ahm. Then we can go."  
  
"All right." he said – and very quickly, he was snapping up the flap of his jacket. He fiddled with the belt. "I think I'm ready, then... oh, not quite." He reached over and took the box she'd given him that was on the shelf. "I see we will have much to talk about later." He tucked it into his left sleeve. "I should stop at Sickbay for a minute as well to get my medical report for my donation." He then picked up the hypospray case. "Ready when you are, T'Val."  
  
Sickbay was much quieter when they got there; most of the patients had already been disembarked. Savion looked around to see if there was anyone he recognized – he saw Nurse Crowley and headed for her.  
  
"There you are!" She said as soon as she saw Savion and T'Val. "What are you doing here??? The crew is about to disembark! K'rilish wants us all together as a show of solidarity."  
  
"I've come for my medical report," Savion said "as it seems I will be completing my medical time off on Spacedock. Is there time to get it?"  
  
"Oh, right." Sarah said. "I had that ready for you." She looked up at him. "I expected you earlier. Didn't you get my messages? I've been trying your quarters for some time now."  
  
"The Lieutenant's quarters..." T'Val suddenly said "Were little more than a storage space with no comm."  
  
Sarah looked at T'Val, then back to Savion. "It's true. I did not receive any messages."  
  
"Here" Sarah pushed a data chip to Savion."You have to hurry. We're disembarking in 5 minutes from the main gangway." She eyed T'Val. "I have your report, too. I really wish I could talk to you about it." She handed over another chip. "Good thing you're going to the Embassy. Please, please, T'Val – do something about this! Now, both of you – run!" Sarah pushed a comm switch. "I found them! We're on our way!" Sarah hustled both of them and they left Sickbay. The main gangway was only down one deck from Sickbay and about 60 metres away, However, given that Savion only had a few hours of actual rest, he found the trip to the gangway exhausting. T'Val noticed and put her hand under one elbow to assist the rapid walk to the Gangway. They came up to the end of the line. "Thanks, T'Val." He said taking a deep breath and leaning forward, bracing his hands on his knees. "Damn, this left me weak."  
  
"You will recover, Kerov-ahm." T'Val said. "I will not leave you until you are properly tended to."  
  


He could only nod, breathing heavily and fighting the light-headed feeling he had.  
  
"Ai!" They both heard a gruff voice. In spite of his light-headed state, Savion had to smile. Of course he would find them.  
  
Kitane pushed his way through the crowd to Savion and T'Val. Sarah Crowley by then had disappeared into the crowd.  
  
"I was wondering where you two got to!" Kitane said. "I've been hearing some interesting rumours concerning the both of you..... brother, are you all right?"  
  
"He is still recovering from his blood donation in surgery." T'Val said. "He needs rest but events are moving counter to that."  
  
Kitane put his hand under one of Savion's elbows. "Help me sister." He said. Together they got him upright again. Savion looked paler than he should have. "We will leave this ship, together, as it should be." He tugged at the front of Savion's jacket, straightening it. "There you go."  
  
The announcement to disembark came over the comm and the crew snapped to attention. Savion held himself upright. With his best friends on either side of him, they marched off with dignity and pride for a job well done. Savion couldn't help but feel relief; relief that this nightmare had come to an end and relief that he was finally leaving the Phobos. It was a sweet ship that served them well, but he was happy to leave it – and the memories it left him – behind him.


	15. ACT ONE part 15

**USS Phobos**

**NCC-2786**

**Port side Deck**

_______________________

 

"Oh -- sorry! My fault," said K'Liver. The Tellarite Petty officer gingerly bent over and picked up the set of PADDs he'd dropped. It was difficult, but he as glad for the assistance from the man he'd bumped into. Injured during their battle with the Hathaway (mostly bumps and bruises) the Tellarite was feeling every one. Before and behind him the disembarking line of the USS Phobos moved slowly. The dim of conversations were filled with excitement and fatigue as most had already disembarked. Passing a PADD's to K'Liver the man ahead of him curiously glanced at one. 

 

"Medical Calibration Scanning Systems?" read the Vulcan with a curious quirk of a singe brow. "Forgive me for asking, but I find that an odd reading selection for a ..." 

 

K'Liver nodded. "... for a simple Petty Officer, you mean Dr. Rotek?" he replied with a respectful look. Though it was subtle the surprise showed on the Vulcan's face. 

 

"I recognize your resemblance to your brother, Captain Solkar," explained the Tellarite. Returning the PADD to his stack he continued. 

 

"I'm studying to get my Double Nacelles. In order to be rated as a Chief Petty Officer I have to know every system onboard this a ship. One thing you learn when you serve on an active ship is to study every moment you get. Even if you're just waiting in line." 

 

Glancing down the queue the Tellarite smiled to himself.

 

"That's actually something your brother taught us when he was our Chief Science Officer." 

 

Turning back he faced the Vulcan botanist. 

 

"I'm ... I'm sorry for your lost, Dr. Rotek. Your brother was a great Officer ... and a good friend." 

 

Whatever stirrings the Vulcan felt he masked it well. 

 

"I have some reservations regarding my brothers death, though in light of my ... involvement aboard the Bonaventure many of the facts surrounding his passing have come to light." 

 

"None of this should have happened," added K'Liver in a hushed voice. Stowing his PADDS into a satchel he straightened his uniform dress jacket, and looked back down the line.

 

"Forgiving me for asking Mr. ... ?" 

 

K'Liver winced at his faux pas. 

 

"My bad. K'Liver. Petty Officer K'Liver, Environmental and Environmental Accessories Specialist." 

 

"Mr. K'Liver. I did not realize that disembarking was such a formal affair," said Rotek as he studied the Tellarite's attire. K'Liver pulled in a breath. 

 

"It's not. I'm ... I'm just waiting for another honored friend." 

 

**Sickbay**

 

"I'm going, and that's final," stated Jexe. Medical Yeoman Tara O'Neil balled her hands into fist and placed them on her hips. 

 

"You're in no condition to go anywhere, sir. You're showing high readings of radiation exposure, and your body's still healing from the loss of your kidney." 

 

"Signs, Yeoman, but not symptoms. As you might of noticed my physiology isn't exactly human. I'm fine. Really! Fine enough to be where I should be." 

 

"No!" stomped the Yeoman. Their eyes locked in a combat of wills. Finally, Jexe glanced over to the next patient bed. 

 

"Ensign Patterson, could you pass me that empty bedpan?" 

 

Giving the Titan a skeptical look the Redheaded Engineer complied. 

 

"Sir, if you need assistance in getting to the head I can -- " began Tara.

 

Holding the stainless steel pan in his bare hands Jexe crumpled it in half with ease. 

 

"Strong like wolf!" he said with small smile. He dropped it to the floor producing a heavy clang. Tara's resolved wavered as she studied the bent object.

 

"Look, Ensign Patterson will accompany me. I'll even use that damn cane," offered the new Captain. He hooked his chin at the mentioned object settled against the wall between his and Cassandra's beds. 

 

"Please, Tara ... I need to do this." 

 

Crossing her arms under her chest the Yeoman swore. 

 

"Damn. All right, go then," she breathed. "Dr. Mender will have my hide, but you need to check into Starfleet medical once you're on Spacedock. No delays!" 

 

"Absolutely." 

 

Jexe sprung to his feet, wished he hadn't, but did his best not to show. Picking up his uniform dress jacket he gingerly put it on and saw that Cassandra was doing the same. Last, he took up his cane. 

 

"Ensign," he said offering his arm. She took it and he noticed the full colour of her eyes. Leaning his weight lightly into her he pivoted towards the exit doors. 

 

"I have much to ask you, Ensign," he said as they walked towards the egress. "I have a sense no one knew him better than you." 

_______________________

 

"They're coming!" called out Cadet Krell. The young Bolian turned to the other assembled Officers, Crewmen and Cadets. As one they began to straighten their own dress uniforms and come to attention. Cadet Cooper, a young African-American male stood next to Master Chief Keval th’Zarath, and Chief Petty Officer Gregor Orin. Facing them on the other side of the corridor stood Ensign Jingfei, Cadet Collette Reed, Crewmen Vl'Ran, Crewmen Jean Marlon, and last PO K'Liver. 

 

As one the assembled turned to watch the approaching procession. 

 

Ensign Les Sidewater came first. Dressed in a traditional Scottish kilt he played _Amazing Grace_ in flawless, somber notes. Draped in the flag of the United Federation of Planets the casket of Captain Drask came next. Covered with the petals of Andorian flowers it floated on anti-gravity suspensors. Taking up the rear Captain Jexe O'Dag came last accompanied by Ensign Cassandra Patterson. 

 

"Halt!" called out Jexe. The casket stopped on command and floated in place. Gathered on either side the crew and guest of the USS Phobos grabbed the rails of the coffin and became Captain Drask' pallbearers. Moving to the rear of the coffin Cassandra switch off the suspensors allowing the full weight of the Captain's body to be lifted by his crew. She grasped the last remaining rail at the rear. 

 

A heavy silence filled the corridor as those ahead in line moved to stand flat against the hallway walls. Jexe's foot falls echoed as he stepped closer and surveyed the gathering. The hum of the Phobos filled the silence.

 

"In ancient Human history honour in battle was revered," he began. "Warriors carried their shields into battle. If they came back without it, all knew the man had dropped it to run during the fight and was forever branded as a coward." His words reverberated off the bulkhead walls. "Victorious or not, a true warrior knew of only two ways to return home." 

 

The Titan looked down upon the burnished casket. 

 

"With your shield ... or on it." 

 

Jexe lowered his head in silence, then continued. 

 

"Today we honour our fallen and the sacrifices they've made. Captain Drask made that ultimate sacrifice because he believed in the principles ... in the future Starfleet and the United Federation of Planets fights to up hold. In the short time I knew him I can recall few individuals equally as brave, equally as ... unflinching in the face of death. Can we be no less? I will ask myself that very question, for we will all be tested. As long as we wear and honor this uniform ... we will always be tested." 

 

He paused to allow his words to sink in. 

 

"With your shield or on it," he repeated. "Today we honor our fallen. Let us pay him the respect he deserves." 

 

On cue Sidewater began to play and the procession move forward. Crewmen, Officers, and civilians lowered their heads in reverence as the pallbearers passed, up the hallway of the USS Phobos and down the gangway into Earth Spacedock. 

_______________________

 

**Petty Officer K'Liver**

**Environmental and Environmental Accessories Specialist**

 

**Captain Jexe O'Dag**

**Commanding Officer**

 


	16. ACT ONE part 16

**USS Bonaventure**

**NCC-1745**

 

Sector 001

Spacedock 01

 

ON:

 

It was a short trip to meeting place.   K’rilish had no idea why Admiral Cheng wanted him to meet aboard a starship, but he was never one to question the authority of a ranking officer.    Once the last of the Phobos’ crew had departed, and the ship was secured with Spacedock One, K’rilish took one of the small Type I shuttles that was prepared for him.   Until he was relieved by Starfleet Command, he was still technically in charge of the Phobos and the discretion of his command permitted him the use of the ship’s shuttlecraft. 

 

            Ten minutes later, K’rilish saw the graceful lines of an _Excelsior_ class starship ahead of him.   The _USS Valley Forge_ , fresh out of the ship yards, hung beautifully over the horizon of Earth.   It was Admiral Cheng’s flag ship, and K’rilish was not afraid to let himself feel envious of the craft.   Of all the great classes of starships in Starfleet, he had a personal affinity toward the _Excelsior_ class.   It could serve as a science platform helping chart gaseous anomalies, and with only a few onboard modifications, be turned into a deadly dreadnaught. 

 

            Guiding the shuttle on a proper approach vector, K’rilish carried out the respectful act of haling the _Valley Forge_ and identifying himself before being detected.   He tapped a contact on the controls that opened a com link to the ship.

           

“This is the shuttlecraft _Thirishar_ to the _Valley Forge_.  This is Lieutenant Commander K’rilish of the _Phobos_ requesting permission to dock on official business by Admiral Cheng.”

 

            The response was almost instantaneous.   “ _Valley Forge_ to _Thirishar_ , we copy your approach and we are guiding you in via tractor beam.  Enjoy the landing.”

 

            K’rilish raised his paws from the controls.   He watched as the shuttle bay doors to the _Valley Forge_ began to open.   The shuttle was guided to a landing spot and soon as it touched the deck, a crewman hurried across the massive deck.   He snapped to attention as K’rilish emerged from the shuttle’s hatch. 

 

            “Welcome aboard the _USS Valley Forge_ , Lieutenant Commander,” the crewman said.  “I will escort you to the conference room.” 

 

            K’rilish gave a curt nod.  As he followed the crewman across the deck, he could smell the fresh paint in the air.   The entire ship reeked of newness, and it brought back memories of his arrival on the _Bonaventure_.   Those memories were from a ship that was over thirty years in the past, but they were just a few months old.

 

            “This is a fine ship,” K’rilish told the crewman. 

 

            “Yes, Sir!” the crewman gushed.  He led K’rilish through the double doors of the shuttle bay into the corridor.  “We’re hoping to break some of the speed records held by the old _Constitution_ class ships.”

 

            “That won’t happen,” K’rilish answered. 

 

            The crewman wilted visibly at the answer.  He showed K’rilish to the turbolift at the end of the corridor.   As soon as the crewman mentioned the deck where the conference room was located, a woman’s voice responded in confirmation.   K’rilish perked his ears and he looked to the ceiling of the turbolift.  

 

            “It’s a new feature, Sir,” the crewman said.  He was gushing again.  “A lot of visitors aren’t used to it, I’m afraid.” 

 

            K’rilish gave a disapproving grunt.   The _Valley Forge_ was not his ship, and if her commanding officer wanted a jabbering turbolift than it was his business.   After a quick ride in the turbolift, he was led into a short corridor and through a doorway at the end.   He entered a room that was curved.  On the outer wall, narrow strips of windows angled away from the ceiling toward the floor.   K’rilish could see the aft section of the Valley Forge’s saucer section and her port and starboard nacelles, a view that he left him speechless.   Dominating the middle of the room was a polished conference table that curved with the contour the room.   High backed leather chairs were placed along the table, a far cry from the utilitarian furnishings of the old _Bonaventure’s_ conference room.   Along the wall opposite of the windows was a large oil painting of George Washington sitting astride his mount while surveying his troops at Valley Forge in the winter of 1777.

 

            It was the man standing at the end of the of the room that surprised K’rilish the most.  The man was a Vulcan and he long hair that was pulled back behind him and a neatly trimmed beard.   He also was not a wearing uniform, but loose fitting clothes over which he wore a long black robe.   

           

 “Are you the assistant director from the Department of Temporal Investigations that Admiral Cheng told me about?” K’rilish asked.

 

“No,” the man said.  “My name is Solkar.”

 

K’rilish stared at the Vulcan.  He knew of Solkar.  He had been the chief science officer of the Bonaventure, and then captain of the _USS Tyson_.    

 

            “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

 

            A faint smile played across Solkar’s face.  K’rilish had to admit that it seemed strangely unnerving seeing a smiling Vulcan.   It was akin to seeing a smiling Andorian. 

 

            “I am dead…in a sense,” Solkar answered.

 

            “Tell that to the crew of the _USS Tyson_ ,” K’rilish said in a gruff voice.

 

            The smile vanished and Solkar gave a pained look.  He turned away from K’rilish and he walked toward the chair at the end of the table.   “There is not a moment that goes by that I think of those people,” he said.  “I will give my life if I knew I could change those events, but there is no way.  I know, because I checked.”

 

            “Enough of this blathering!” K’rilish snapped.  “I demand to know why I was brought here.   I have had enough of dealing with secret societies and shadowy individuals, and you are no different.  Tell me why I shouldn’t haul you out of here and drag you before Starfleet Command!”

 

            Solkar’s left eyebrow arched upward and he gave a quizzical look.   “Such an action would be highly illogical.  I bear you, or the Federation, no ill will, Mr. K’rilish.”

 

            “Then why am I here?” K’rilish demanded.

 

            The Vulcan gave a sigh that sounded vaguely annoyed.  “Please sit down, Mr. K’rilish, and I will tell you.”

 

            K’rilish was half tempted to leave the conference room and summon the _Valley Forge’s_ chief security officer, but he had the strange sense that had he tried such a move that he would not succeed in reaching the door.  Although Solkar had no weapon, and he did not look, hostile it was his air self-assurance that bothered K’rilish.   It was also the lack of a scent that really bothered him.  It was if the Vulcan were not really present in the room.  Reluctantly, he walked over and he sat down in one of the chairs.

 

            “I represent an organization that is highly involved with the progression of time, Mr. K’rilish,” Solkar began.  “We are observers in a sense in that we watch, and protect, what is considered the natural progression of time within the known construct of the galaxy.”

 

            “And you are here because of me?” K’rilish said.

 

            Solkar nodded.  “Yes.  You have the tendency to create a wrinkle, Mr. K’rilish.”

 

            “A what?”

            “A wrinkle is a disturbance in time,” Solkar explained.  “Imagine throwing a rock into a placid lake.  The ripples that are created have the tendency to spread out over the surface of the lake, creating other ripples.  From one action, others are created.  Time has the unfortunate consequence of being affected by one small event that transpires into much greater ones.”

 

            Temporal mechanics was a field that was only coming into light during K’rilish’s time.  It was egghead stuff as far as he was concerned, relegated to scientists locked away in obscure laboratories with state of the art computers to figure out.   He suspected that Solkar’s rock in the lake explanation was an attempt to clarify what he was talking about, yet another sign that he knew a lot more than what he was letting on.

 

            “You are saying that my being here is a creating a problem with time,” K’rilish said at last.  “Is that it?”

 

            “No, that was normal,” Solkar answered.  “It’s what you plan to do that is the problem.   You are considering on resigning your commission with Starfleet so you can seek out your brother D’rriger, and kill him.”

 

            K’rilish’s felt his claws dig into the upholstered arms of his chair.  He narrowed his eyes at Solkar.  “How did you know of this?”

 

            “Because I have seen the timeline that you will create if you go after your brother, Mr. K’rilish,” Solkar said.  “You have been considering killing your brother because of his actions against your father, wife, and son.   It has created sufficient concern for me to come here and attempt to persuade you not to make that decision as it will have dire consequences on your normal progression through time.”

 

            “And what is that normal progression?” K’rilish asked.  “Can you tell me?”

 

            Solkar paused and he reached into the pocket of his trousers.  He produced a tiny crystal which he placed on the table.   K’rilish watch as the crystal began to glow.  From the crystal, K’rilish began to hear what sounded like a transmission being played.   Static filled the room, followed by the sound of people yelling.  He recognized it as the activity that was taking place on the bridge of a ship.

 

            He froze when he heard his own voice rise up over the commotion that was taking place.  “This is the _Valley Forge_!  We just lost the _USS ShiKahr_!  I am going to draw fire from the Cardassian weapons platforms so the remainder of the fleet can….and….shields…”

 

            The transmission came to an abrupt end.   Solkar took the crystal and he placed it back into his pocket.  “I must apologize for not letting you see the visual record, Mr. K’rilish, but I must keep as much information as confidential as possible.”

 

            “What was that?” K’rilish exclaimed.  He stood up and stared at Solkar.

 

            “The future,” Solkar answered.  His tone was matter-of-fact.  “It is the natural progression of your time line.   Until recently, it was secured but your recent actions concerning your brother are putting that into jeopardy.”

 

            “That sounded a lot further into the future than just a few years!” K’rilish said.  “It sounded like I was commanding this ship.”

 

            “You were.”

 

            “When?” K’rilish pressed.

 

            “Seventy five years,” Solkar answered.

 

            K’rilish fell back into his chair.  “It’s impossible.  I will be too old.”

 

            Solkar steepled his fingers in the typical Vulcan motion and he bowed his head.  “Technically, you will be one hundred and ten years old, but physically, quite the contrary.  You will be fifty two in 2275.  From a Caitian perspective, it is quite young.”

 

            K’rilish growled.  “For someone giving me answers, you are being awful vague, Solkar!”

 

            “It’s not my intention, Mr. K’rilish,” Solkar said.  “To answer your question, within eight years’ time you will travel through time again.  It will be your final time jump.”

 

            A cold hand gripped K’rilish’s stomach.  Not again, he thought.  He was just now getting used to being in this time.   “How is it going to happen?” he asked.  

 

            “Chroniton particles,” Solkar explained.  “They are particles that can occur naturally, and are associated through time.  Even from my time, they are still a mystery as to how they occur.   In you, for reasons we cannot explain, they are building up slowly within your molecular structure and they cannot be removed.   From what we extrapolated, they will reach a point of flux.  You will simply pass through time.   You will appear within eleven years of the events that you just heard.”

 

            “How does going after D’rriger change that?” asked K’rilish.

 

            “If you go after your brother, you will die,” Solkar said simply, “or you will risk destabilizing the chronitons in your system as a result of the subspace weapons that he is experimenting with.  Regardless, death is the eventual outcome.  Your chances of surviving are four hundred thousand two hundred and sixty three to one.”

 

            “Maybe I am willing to take those odds,” K’rilish said.  He let his anger flow with his words.  “D’rriger killed my wife and father, and he destroyed my son.   Even my own people do not want anything to do with my clan, and its lineage.  I cannot expect to stand by and let him get  away with that.”

 

            Solkar leaned forward and he looked at K’rilish carefully.   “I said that if you _go_ after your brother, or if _you_ kill him, Mr. K’rilish.   His time will come, and it will pass.”

 

            “That is more time talk nonsense!” K’rilish snapped.

 

            “You are a hunter, Mr. K’rilish.  Don’t you know the benefits of patience?” Solkar asked.

 

            K’rilish was not oblivious to what Solkar was trying to tell him.   Still, the emotions that he felt for his brother remained deep at least enough that his patience would be put to the test.  It was not his nature to let an offence so grievous to pass without an action on his part.  If something were to come to pass involving the retribution that he sought, he hoped that it would be soon.

 

            He turned his thoughts to other matters.

 

            “Am I going to die in this battle that is going to happen?” K’rilish said.  He looked back at Solkar.

 

            “No, but your actions from that battle will carry forward into a career that is very promising,” Solkar said.  “That is all that I am permitted to tell you.”

 

            “Of course, you want to keep me intrigued just in case I doubt you and I choose to go after D’rriger,” K’rilish grunted.

 

            “Do you blame me?” Solkar said.  He gave a low smile.

 

            “Something tells me I would be a fool to doubt you.”

 

            “That would be a wise assessment,” Solkar replied.  He stood up and he walked over to one of the windows.  From the reflection, K’rilish could see that he was lost in thought.

 

            “Will Admiral Van Horne live?” K’rilish asked.

 

            “I cannot say.”

 

            “You will tempt me with my future, but you won’t say anything about a man who could be dead tomorrow,” K’rilish said.  He was annoyed.  “You are a peculiar individual.”

 

            “That is because your timeline is your destiny, and that of any other is theirs,” Solkar said.  He looked over at K’rilish.  “If you wish some solace, Mr. K’rilish, the destiny of everyone that you know aboard the _Bonaventure_ will have a great effect on a great many future events.”

 

            More time talk.  It was beginning to make K’rilish’s head hurt.  He looked over to the door.  “So what happens next?  Do you wipe my memories or something?”

 

            “That will not be necessary.  I know that you will not make an official report of our meeting, and that you will choose discretion.  Admiral Cheng will believe that you met with a Starfleet official from the Department of Temporal Investigations, and he will keep the issue private. “

 

            “Will we meet again?”

 

            “Good bye, Mr. K’rilish,” Solkar said.  “May you live long and prosper.”

 

            K’rilish looked at Solkar.  He was still staring out the window, lost in thought about something, or matters, he had no clue about.   He stepped through the doorway and into the corridor beyond.   He let the doors close behind him and he stood for a moment.  On a whim, he turned around and he stepped back into the conference room.

 

            Solkar was gone.   K’rilish lifted his nose and he sniffed.  There was the faint odour of ozone in the air.

 

            It was possible that Solkar had left through the other doors, but K’rilish did not believe that to be the case.  A time traveller would have little use for doors once their business was finished.   He left the conference room, and he returned to the shuttle bay.  The same crewman that escorted him to the conference room was waiting to see him off. 

 

            “Did you by any chance see the Vulcan in the conference room?” K’rilish asked.

 

            The crewman gave a blank look.  “I’m afraid that it wasn’t my business to notice, Sir.”

 

            That would be true.  K’rilish decided that it was best to keep his visit on the _Valley Forge_ a private one.   He walked over to the shuttle with the eager crewman following close behind. 

 

            “We hope that you enjoyed your time with us, Sir!” the crewman called out.  “Please come back soon.”

 

            K’rilish looked at the crewman.   What he said next would puzzle the crewman well into his later years when he would become a Federation senator who liked to regale his friends and associates with stories of his time with Starfleet.  He would eventually recount the story with the same Caitian nearly a century later.

 

“I’ll be back, but it won’t be any time soon.”

 

OFF:  **NOTE:  This ends the backstory involving K’rilish’s brother.   The battle described here is the** _ **First Battle of Chin’toka**_ **against the Dominion (2374), and can be seen on the Deep Space Nine episode: “Tears of the Prophets”**

  



	17. ACT ONE part 17

Starbase 1  
Medical Complex  
  
A sharp, sudden ankle pain awoke the Admiral, who stared at the ceiling. His mouth was dry. He had a minor headache. The first thing he noticed was the myriad of cords and tubes that were connected to him, providing fresh plasma to his system, that had been violated by alien molecules, and once again to exploit the nanotech inherent.  
  
He looked up to see the petite silhouette of the most damned attractive woman he could remember seeing, who stood there with an inverted Cheshire grin. He raised an eyebrow….  
  
"My blood… " He croaked.  
  
"…is a Molotov cocktail of chemical nutrients and synthetic Type O that's coursing through your system. It seems quite a little war was fought inside your circulatory system." She paused, then added, "Admiral."  
  
He reached up slowly with a hand that was tied to several machines, and felt his face, the pain of bruises from P'Ree, and felt his hair. Singed, but still intact near the hairline…  
  
Back to business.  
  
"I need a report right away. Post mission briefing. Ship status. Fleet update. Causalities list—"  
  
Gibbs held up a hand, and warned, "The chain of command is being followed, Admiral. The Universe isn't coming apart due to your temporary time in the infirmary."  
  
VanHorne was annoyed, "I'm not sure I appreciate your use of candor at this moment, Nurse—" he spotted her nametag, "—Gibbs??"  
  
She nodded.  
  
VanHorne's eyebrows wrinkled, "I'm so sorry."  
  
Her eyes misted for just a quick second. She wiped her nose with the back of a wrist, and smiled in spite of the spike of pain,  
  
"Captain O'Dag is coming soon. He'll let you know everything you need to know. For now, though…"  
  
She produced a small device from her smock, and aimed it at the outer window alcove, which retracted to show a view of the interior of the station. The Phobos was creeping inside to her birth. Scorched hull. Running lights flashing yellow for emergency docking.  
  
Intact.  
  
VanHorne nodded, “We live to fight another day, then."  
  
Gibbs nodded, softly, before she disappeared into the hallway,  


"Aye."  
  
***

 

Sto-Vo-Kor Act ONE Part 15 "Revelations"  
  
Spacedock, Earth Orbit  
  
T'Val left the casket of Captain Drask with Savion and Kitane. While she did not know Captain Drask personally, Savion did, a little. It was a sign of respect for a fallen Captain that they had stood before UFP flag-draped sleek coffin on its dais. Since they were at the end of the line of the departing crew, there were few people left behind them. Perhaps it was a sign of his weakened condition that while he did not say anything, he bowed his head in respectful remembrance and came away with a tear in both eyes. Kitane helped Savion over to the concourse where a large number of people were waiting.  
  
"There are Medical personnel here, Kerov-ahm." she said quietly to him. "We will enquire with them." He nodded briefly; he was still fighting the light-headed feeling and it was a bit difficult to concentrate.  
  
Kitane steered them towards the Medical personnel. "Excuse me," he said. "My friend needs to go to Medical."  
  
"Certainly, Ensign" a young Vulcan female intern said. She eyed T'Val briefly, who said nothing but returned her steady gaze. The intern looked at Savion, who looked up at her. "Lieutenant, it appears you are not well. What can we assist you with?"  
  
He held up the data chip to the Intern. "My records from the Phobos. I trust it will provide the information you require." She took the chip, and inserted it into a reader and scanned the readout quickly. She looked up – perhaps a bit too quickly, but she regained her composure in a blink of an eye. "Tricorder, please" she said without looking back and held her hand out. Another intern placed a Medical tricorder in her hand, and she flipped it open, scanning Savion. She looked up at him after a minute.  
  
"Lieutenant, you are extremely anaemic. Your red cell count is very low."  
  
He nodded. "Needed to give blood for surgery. I have a rare type." He suddenly sagged a little, but T'Val countered quickly, with Kitane half a heartbeat behind. "Sorry." he said. "I do feel light-headed and tired."  
  
The Vulcan intern snapped her tricorder closed and tossed out a series of commands to the other interns behind her. In moments, they had a wheelchair out and she insisted he sit in it. She looked at the reader with his data chip in it again and opened her tricorder for a more thorough scan. "The doctor required a significant transfusion from you, Lieutenant. Almost at dangerous levels."  
  
Savion shook his head and tried to wave his hand to make a point, but he found he couldn't speak as a wave of dizziness came over him.; T'Val suddenly knelt beside him, wrapping his hand in both of hers. The intern raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "Do not strain yourself, Kerov-ahm. Relax." T'Val looked up at the intern. "If I may, the Lieutenant willingly gave blood to save another life. He requires rest, as his medical report states." She moved one hand to pluck the hypospray case from Savion's belt. "He was also given this haemoglobin builder as the ship's medical staff was severely strained and he is due for another shot in approximately 6 hours. Had we not returned earlier than expected, the ship's staff would have taken additional steps to insure his recovery."

"Very well." the Vulcan intern said to T'Val, taking the hypospray case. "We will attend to his recovery, Lieutenant. Thank you for bringing him to us." T'Val nodded briefly and letting go of Savion's hand, she returned to Kitane. "Do either of you require medical assistance?" the intern asked.  
  
"Negative." T'Val said. I will be proceeding to the Vulcan Embassy immediately. The intern turned to Kitane.  
  
"Tellarite Embassy," Kitane said, before she could ask. "Now that our friend is with you."  
  
"Thank you." The intern half turned but stopped and said to T'Val. "Ot-lan, fundik Q'omi ish-veh du-set'ki?"  
  
"Q'omi t'hai'lu bolyu rom muh'les." T'Val replied. Then, in Standard: "My business is of no concern to others. Please do not enquire further." Turning away from the Intern, T'Val put her hand on Kitane's shoulder and half-pushed him down further down the concourse, past the other people waiting there. They continued a little further down the corridor, when Kitane asked: "What... what was that about, sister?" he said.  
  
T'Val looked at him sharply, but then softened her look and slowed down. "My apologies. She was making a personal enquiry that is of no concern to her. Since she chose to make her enquiry in Vulcan, I had no choice but to respond in kind."  
  
"Was she suggesting that there is a more intimate relationship between you and our brother?" Kitane asked. T'Val stopped abruptly and faced him. "How did you surmise that? Please explain."  
  
Kitane sighed. It was finally time to face the situation.  
  
"Sister, are you not aware of the rumours going around the ship concerning you and our brother?"  
  
"Idle gossip is of no concern to me."  
  
"You should be more concerned than you are. There are several different rumours going around, but most of them basically state that you both are heavily involved in a passionate affair with each other."  
  
"That is patently false!"  
  
"Of course it is! I'm not saying that you both are!" Kitane brought his large hand to his forehead, closing his eyes for a minute. "But you must face the facts. You two are almost always together and people are noticing this. Do you not realize what you did back there?"  
  
"I spoke for Kerov-ahm because he was exhausted."  
  
"Yes, and you held his hand, in a manner that among Humans, signifies some level of intimacy. What does it mean for Vulcans to touch like that? If it means what I think it does - can you blame that intern for being curious?"  
  
"I... " T'Val was a loss for words, it seemed; "I had not considered that aspect."  
  
"Yes, I thought as much. You are both my best friends, so now that this is wide open, I cannot remain silent any longer. You care for him very deeply, don't you?"  
  
T'Val looked at Kitane, and then back where they had left Savion and then nodded. Kitane continued. "So much so that you have forgotten where the line between co-worker and friend lies and moved beyond it." He put his hand on her shoulder. "I care for both of you, but even I can see that you are attracted to our brother more than as a friend and I know he is attracted to you even though he hasn't said anything to me. Believe me, I am happy for you two but you've both lost a certain amount of discretion."  
  
"Discretion....." She said quietly, thoughtfully. Her face started to go impassive again.  
  
"Oh no, you don't! Don't do that! Listen to me!" Kitane said quickly. "Don't go all proper Vulcan on us now, it's too late for that! Not to HIM; he needs you, understand??"  
  
She looked at Kitane again, her face less impassive but there were clearly confusing emotions showing. The moments of her concern, her personal revelation that she loved him came flooding back. Even when they discovered his assigned quarters were an unfinished storage space, she could have agreed with him to find other options. However, she insisted he stay with her- why? Because, her logic told her - your feelings wanted him to be nearby you to satisfy your emotional needs. Kitane continued to speak:  
  
"I've known him longer than most. He's tired, exhausted even - and he's vulnerable. If he hasn't told you how he feels, he better say something before too much longer!" Kitane put his both of his hands on her shoulders. "And if he means anything to you at all, don't shut him out. I only know that he will need you now, more than ever. What WE need.. is a way to get you both to talk about this to sort it out but it can't be done for a few days at the very least. Ai! Between our 24 hour leave, the debriefing after that and who knows what else to come!"  
  
Both of them were silent for a few minutes. T'Val's feelings for Savion collided with her cool logic and she realized that she had allowed herself to slip into an emotional cycle – but it still felt – yes, FELT – right to her. Kitane's comment on discretion was well-taken by her logic and she could see that she could have -should have- handled matters differently that would have not been the subject of shipboard gossip.  
  
"Sister, did he want you to go to see your parents?" Kitane suddenly asked.  
  
"Yes. He insisted it was necessary."  
  
"And he did for me as well. My parents are on Tellar but that's not too long for subspace communications these days. You know, for someone with no family to fall back on, he is remarkably open to what family means. Perhaps that gives him a perspective most of us take for granted." He turned back to look the way they'd come. "At times, I really do feel he is the loneliest man I know." He turned back to T'Val. "I'm sorry, sister. I didn't mean anything by that."  
  
"I understand. I have much to think about over the next few days." She turned to look at Kitane. "We are his family now..." - Kitane's eyebrows threatened to climb over his head over her surprising admission - "and while he is recovering, we should do as he expressed to us. Let us go."  
  
For the short time it took for them to reach the lifts that would take them to their respective Embassies, they discussed on the next steps to be taken. Finally: "This is where we part ways, sister, for now. Take care."  
  
"And you as well. Your observations were most illuminating."  
  
The lift took moments to reach the Embassy. As she entered the foyer of the complex, a middle aged Vulcan man approached her. She stopped and bowed respectfully. "Live long and prosper, Steron. I did not not know you were here at the Embassy."  
  
"I returned as soon as it was known you had disappeared from the shuttle after your meeting with Ambassador Sylk. Your disappearance created a great deal of concern to the Embassy – and to Vulcan. You should have been escorted from the ship which returned you."  
  
"There was more need for me to see my colleagues off, Steron. Are my parents available?"  
  
"Of course. I will take you to them."  
  
T'Val and Steron took one of the smaller halls to a series of apartments. These were the personal quarters used by many of the aides for the Embassy while on Spacedock. Steron stopped near one set of doors. "They are within, T'Val-ahm. When you have completed your obligations there, we have matters of importance to discuss."  
  
"Thank you Steron. I will see you in due course – at the usual place?" Steron nodded. "At your convenience." he said. With that, Steron waited until T'Val entered her parents' apartment and he turned to proceed to an office further in the Embassy. Once there, he picked up a PADD on the desk and looked at its title: 'Notice of Civil Action Against Sonak and T'Preto'. He put it back down on the desk. "Madness." Steron said. "To what purpose is Sopar working towards?" He moved around to sit in the desk's chair and activated his terminal. As expected, there were several urgent messages from a number of correspondents connected to the case. Several were from Starfleet and the rest of the messages from the other agencies he had engaged – however, the one he expected to see was not in the list. It would come, he thought to himself. It was only a matter of time, in this matter of delicacy. Steron set to work.  
  
T'Val closed the doors to her parents' apartments behind her. She knew where they would be; and she stopped before the doors of the office where they waited on the other side. She paused to allow herself to calm herself – the burning of her blood had abated somewhat ever since her revelation. She reached up to touch the call button and had no sooner depressed it when the doors opened.  
  
"Mother, Father." She said calmly as her parents stood looking at her, waiting. "As you can see, I have returned safely. We have much to discuss." She entered the office and it was hours before those doors opened again.

 


	18. ACT ONE part 18

USS Phobos

Spacedock 01

Earth

 

            The Phobos was a ghost ship.  Save for some engineering personnel from the space dock, the ship was void of activity.    Walking through the dimly lit corridors from the shuttle bay to the bridge, K’rilish surveyed the damage along the way with quiet contemplation.    Captain O’Dag’s daring trap over the rings of Saturn had tested the spaceworthiness of the Phobos and had proven the capability of the Andorian’s contribution in starship design.  It had also come with the unfortunate result of having blood spilled to prove it.  

 

            K’rilish was thirty six when he left his time.   Somewhere, in some other universe, there was a sixty old version of himself in this current time frame.   That was middle aged in Caitian years, but he suspected that doppelganger had a few good scars, aches, and pains as the ones that he had now.    He wondered if his alternative friend also had a home and a large family from which to enjoy the remaining years of his life.  

 

            Arriving on the bridge, K’rilish saw that the engineering crew had already placed plastic sheets over the work stations.   The sheets were marked with notices from Starfleet Command indicating that the bridge was an official investigation sight.   They had also placed a stern faced Bolian by the turbolift to prevent any lagging crewmembers from interfering with their task.    The bored looking Bolian quickly stiffened to attention when K’rilish exited the turbolift.

 

            “Sir, this is an investigation site and…”

 

            K’rilish glared at the officer.  “I have access to the ready room to collect Captain Drask’s personal effects.  Do you have a problem with that?”

 

            The Bolian was a chief petty officer and a moment of uncertainty flashed across his face.  He looked toward the doors to the ready room which were not sealed.  The preliminary investigation team had found nothing worthy of further inspection within the room. 

 

            “Uh, no, sir.” The Bolian answered.

 

            K’rilish turned away from the security officer.  He entered the tiny room and he found that everything of personal value had been heaped onto the desk.   It wasn’t much.  There was holographic picture of Captain Drask and a rather beautiful looking Andorian female, some old fashioned looking weapon, and four onyx black cases containing medals.   Someone, perhaps out of a moment of introspection, had left a box by the items so they could be collected and shipped out to Drask’s family. 

 

            Official business had pulled K’rilish away from watching Captain Drask and the other deceased from being sent off from the Phobos.   He had wanted to attend the event to pay his respects to those people, but as he learned the business of temporarily commanding a starship could not wait.    The least K’rilish  could do was write a letter to Drask’s family and see to it that his personnel effects were shipped off to Andor.

 

            K’rilish had written letters before to the families of deceased crewman.   He was not into flowery prose or quoting from poets or scripture as some officers did.  He wasn’t blunt either,  but he had learned to speak honestly in his written hand.   Although he did not know Drask, he told his family that he had wished that he had served with him.  He had given his life to save his ship and crew, and from his own viewpoint, such people were the sole definition of what best represented a Starfleet officer and a good individual.    He finished the letter and then he placed the PADD into the box.

 

            A page sounded from the ready room door.  K’rilish looked up and he spoke loudly.  “Enter!”

 

            The doors opened and Nurse Gibbs was standing at the doorway.  She had an annoyed look on her face.  Behind her the Bolian security officer was hovering over her, his face a darker shade of blue from agitation. 

 

            “Will you please tell this three hundred pound goon that I am not going to mess around with the stupid bridge?” Nurse Gibbs called out.

 

            “Why are you here?” asked K’rilish. 

 

            “To see you!” Nurse Gibbs said.  “The computer said that you were here.”

 

            K’rilish gave an annoyed sigh.  He motioned at the security officer to resume his post.   Nurse Gibbs stuck her tongue at him and she entered the ready room.  Once the doors slid shut, she shook her head.  “All of you security types need a few classes in etiquette!” she exclaimed.

 

            “I think some nurses could use it, too,” K’rilish muttered.

 

            “What was that?” Nurse Gibbs asked. 

 

            “Nothing,” K’rilish said.   “What is it that you want, Nurse Gibbs?   Did you come up here to remind me about my surgery…again?” 

 

            “Merissa!”

 

            “Excuse me?”

 

            “I am off duty, and I would like to be called by my first name,” Nurse Gibbs replied.  “To be honest, I hate the sound of Nurse Gibbs.  Everyone says it as if they are referring to the character Nurse Diesel from the Mel Brooks comedy _High Anxiety_.”

 

            K’rilish put down one of Drask’s medals that he was going to pack.   “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Nur…Merissa,” he said.

 

            “You really need to loosen up,” Merissa answered.   “I happen to know that Caitians understand, and enjoy, human comedies.  I practically grew up in the city of J’tirr and I attended the comedy festival every summer I was there with my father.  Mel Brooks’ movies are very fashionable among the Caitian, and have been for the last century.”

 

            K’rilish was never much a fan of human comedies although he knew about the comedy festival on J’tirr.  He found himself becoming distracted in the presence of this strange woman, something that he found strangely compelling.  The fact that she admitted she had grown on Cait was yet another distraction he did not need at the moment.  He let out an annoyed sigh. 

 

            “Do you have a point in coming up here?”

 

            “Yes.  Admiral Van Horne is awake,” Merissa said.  She offered a smile.  “He is still in serious condition, but the worst part of his injuries are behind him.   Captain O’Dag is expected to make a recovery, too.  Both men are about to be restrained and sedated for their refusal to obey Doc Mender’s orders.”

 

            “At your recommendation, of course,” muttered K’rilish. 

 

            “I heard that!” Merissa called out.

 

            “I apologize,” K’rilish said.   He motioned at the items on the desk.   “If you don’t mind, I have to pack these items and ship them out to Captain Drask’s family.”

 

            Merissa looked at the items.  “I see, but that is hardly something that will take much time.  What are you doing afterward?” 

 

            It was an odd question, but one that K’rilish had not given much thought.   “I was going to Earth,” he said.  “There is twenty four hour leave before everyone is summoned…

           

Merissa interrupted K’rilish in mid-sentence.   “I know all that,” she said.   “I meant to say where you were planning on staying.   Unless you have a home on Earth that hasn’t been looked after the past thirty years, you don’t have a place to stay.”

 

            “Officer’s housing is quite sufficient,” K’rilish answered.  “I have three decades of back pay, too.  I can rent someplace.”

 

            “Nonsense!” Merissa called out.  “I’ll call my father.   Once he knows yours situation, he will demand that you stay at my family residence in Hawaii.” 

 

            K’rilish stopped and he looked a Merissa.   “I suppose your father is someone important,” he said sarcastically. 

 

            “He was only the Federation Ambassador to Cait for twelve years.”

 

            “Nonsense!” K’rilish called out.

 

            “Th’rre’trr g’rrlem, K’rilish,” Merissa said.  She then give a wicked grin.  “We even have an ofra tree in the back yard that you can rest on if you wish.  I’ll pretend not to notice, too.”

 

            It was not uncommon for a Caitian to still make use of the bulbous ofra tree’s with their wide branches and shady plumage.   K’rilish had slept in the ofra tree’s on his family’s estate during the hot and humid summer’s there.  They also made for good shelter during the long hunts on the savanna that could last for days and weeks.   

 

            He realized that he was lost in thought for a time that had long passed, and for a home that was no longer his.  He looked at Merissa.  “I’m not going to hang from some tree just to amuse you,” he said gruffly. 

 

            “Your sarcastic response is not going to work because I know it’s a lame attempt by you to cover up the fact that you are interested in my offer,” Merissa said flatly.  She crossed her arms and she rested them against her chest.  “I’m afraid that I will not take no for an answer.” 

 

            “Are you always this maddening?” K’rilish asked.

 

            Merissa shook her head.  “Only part of the time,” she said.

 

            “I’m not like the average Caitian,” K’rilish warned.  “I’m not into sniffing and touching strangers like some of my people do.  In fact, I hate it.”

 

            “I already figured that part out, but you’re a Reevik.  That’s to be expected.”

 

            That caught K’rilish off guard.  His good ear perked upward.   “What do you know of my clan?”

 

            “As I told you earlier, I grew up and I studied on Cait,” Merissa said.  She sat down on the chair in the ready room.  “I read about all the clans.   I know that the Reevik were called the old guard.  Your lineage believed it came from the Kzinti and it preserved the old hunting traditions.   It wasn’t very popular, either.”

 

            “Then you must know what happened,’ K’rilish added,  “with my father, and my wife.”

 

            “Out of respect I was not going to mention that, but I do know.  I’m sorry,” Merissa said in a sympathetic voice.   

 

            Normally such sympathy’s would have drawn K’rilish’s ire as a sign of weakness, but he found he was unable to feel such negativity from Merissa.   He put the last of Drask’s belongings into the container.  

 

            “Come on!” Merissa called out.  She offered a smile.   “You’ll make my father happy.  He loves any excuse  to speak Caitian, and I’ve been dying for some th’rrongell.   We have a small herd of them on our land.  You can slaughter one, and we’ll have a feast.  We have a family cook that is trained in preparing them.  You won’t be disappointed.”

 

            Th’rrongell was a small four legged deer like creature that was a fast runner.  The meat was incredibly tender, but the creature was noted for the sport that it offered of having to chase it down.   K’rilish paused.   “I don’t have my weapons,” he said.  “They were lost on the Bonaventure.”

 

            Merissa looked up at the ceiling and she made a face.  “Wouldn’t you think that the former Federation ambassador to the planet Cait would have collected a vast, and impressive, armoury of Caitian weapons over his time on that planet?” 

 

            “I suppose so,” K’rilish said.  He let out a long, heavy sigh.  “Very well.  I accept your invitation.”

 

            “Thank you!” Merissa exclaimed.  “Was it so hard to say yes, or are you normally this complicated?”

 

            “You should know that you have a strange way of dealing with people!” K’rilish shot back. 

 

            “I’ve handled Klingons and Nausicaans,” Merissa said with a note of pride in her voice.  “It comes with the job.”

 

            K’rilish picked up the box and he started for the door of the ready room.  “I think I am going to regret accepting your invitation,” he said.

 

            “We’ll see,” Merissa said, and she gave a wink.

 

OFF:

 

On the normal trade lines intersecting the Alpha Quadrant, a ship with Tellarite registry came passing through the freight lanes, headed toward Earth. Her declared cargo included rare crafted textiles, food stuffs, and several tons of a rare mineral that had become popular with terraformers in the Sol system. No one noticed the ship, which had a long expired registry number, and the name "L'Eikenok" emblazoned on her oxidized hull.  
  
Something too was amiss. Solar defense grid had not detected the ship due to the large skirmish taking place between the Phobos, and Constellation battle fleet. Harbor patrol had been on high alert for Optimum agents, and thus, the spectre of an old, pockmarked freighter slipped through to Sector 001 in a very narrow window of time that might'nt otherwise have existed.  
  
The running lights were black. There was no call to the harbour master. Starbase 1's officer in charge of directing space traffic was the first to pick it up as it passed the "2 Au Limit" and proceeded on ¼ impulse, presumably on auto pilot, since no one had responded to the automated hail.  
  
His report was thus;  
  
"It looked like it was darker than space. Reflected practically no light. The main nacelle was dark, and her impulse drive looked like it was on the verge of permanently blinking off. When she arrived at the universal docking clamp, and depressurized her the first smell to come into the outer corridors was the smell of dead bodies. Even the micro-particulates that eliminate bacterial threats from the station couldn't get rid of it."  
  
The passage from Altair IX was terrible. Illegal immigrants scurried aboard, anxious to avoid the razing of their farms by the deranged Klingon General. A logistics specialist and his wife arranged passage to the Federation, in a rare plea of amnesty for their child. As they took their own lives in front of her, with the Captain and several others, the children were left to roam the ship freely until many of them too succumbed to starvation, and the strange plague that had obliterated 1/3 of the vessel’s compliment.  
  
The child was named 6 years ago in honour of the new Klingon Chancellor; Azetbur  
  
In return for the tribute, her parents were bestowed the symbolic honour of "Epetai", a hollow honorific that would lose its meaning shortly after when economic collapse would threaten the very basic threads of community, thrusting the proud family into starvation. To the father, honour was everything, and yet this small little example of himself couldn't be allowed to become a statistic of the rank and file, swallowed up by the cruel indifference of life on Qo'Nos.  
  
Before the suicide, as the mated pair of Klingons watched beneath filthy tarps out of the viewport as the rings of Saturn became visible, they realized that their daughter now had a chance, within the confines of their government's greatest enemy; the Federation.


	19. ACT TWO Part 1

Starbase 1  
Promenade  
3 Weeks After the Optimum Incident

The topmost city cupola of Earth's Starbase was easily the prettiest. The great station that spun like a top in geosynchronous orbit with San Francisco was a favorite resort area as well as merchant and civilian hub, after all. For the two pair of officers taking a break from the business of recovery, it was all they could do to keep their eyes off of each other, and the heartbreaking longing that they had built up during their time in deep space.

"I've read every mission log," VanHorne said, walking slowly and purposefully on his cane, "I know what they went through, and what they did. Each of them."

"Are you happy now?" Rachel asked. 

"No." He said, looking at her, and holding her fragile, delicate face in his hand. He passed his fingers over the side of her face, and felt her jaw softly, as he traced it all the way down her tapered neck, then back up, putting his hand on the back of her head, and feeling her hair. He shook his head, and sympathetically looked into her eyes,

"How bad was it?"

Rachel was the picture of calm strength as she stared back at him. She was describing her miscarriage.

"It happened during our engagement with the Hathaway. Dr. Mender is certain that battle stresses contributed to it, and was incensed I was at my station."

VanHorne didn't say anything for a long while. He looked away toward the fountain that dominated the center of the Promenade, many stories beneath the hotel suite where his planetary science officer took a fateful plunge.

"I'm sorry. But…"

"Relieved?" She questioned, with a hint of tear, stepping closer to him.

"Yes." He said with a stiff lip and sad eyes.

There would be no Joseph Palser born as long as Rachel Osgoode and Jas VanHorne never had a baby together. No Palser meant one less victimizer of the Universe. One less tragic soul whose life would bear down on the rest.

"I'm …going to be fine. Starfleet's installing counselors on every ship now. They're taking battle fatigue seriously. I'll recover. How about you?"

VanHorne looked down at his ankle, "Old, aggravated wound. I may have this limp of mine for a very long time. The ribs will heal. And my blood's … they're keeping an eye on things."

"I wasn't asking necessarily about your battered body." She said, then kissed him tenderly on the cheek. She sighed,

"P'Ree really hates you, doesn't she."

"Yes, she does." He stated, as if he were telling the correct time.

"What's going to happen to her?"

"She'll be hauled in front of a tribunal. Given her day in court. Starfleet is selecting a counselor to represent her now."

"Will you have to appear in court?"

"Lieutenant Cross will make it necessary, I'm sure. But that's months away."

"Will you go back to the center chair any time soon?"

"I … don't think so." He said, with a sad smile. "I don't think it's my place anymore." He paused, then added, "O'Dag didn't do what I would have done. He did a lot more. He was relentless, and didn't waste a beat. That's what starships of today are going to need more of. I'm better suited now for the role of elder statesman."

She put her arms around his waist, "I can't argue that."

From the corner of VanHorne's eye, he saw a little girl running through the garden. Her frail arms were pumping, and her chest was heaving. The tattered peach overalls she wore momentarily got snagged by a piece of shrubbery, giving Station security a chance to close the distance between them.

The child grunted with a feral quality that reminded VanHorne of a woodland animal being hunted. The pair of officers halted their advance for a moment as the scene unfolded before them.

"What in the world?" VanHorne said, perplexed.

"It's a girl."

"A girl with brow ridges, large incisors, and she's nearly as tall as me."

As the girl jumped the garden obstacles, and scurried forward through the vegetation, passersby stopped and stared as she furiously tried to evade the large men with batons who gave chase. Just feet from where VanHorne and Osgoode were standing, the young female darted past them, and the old Admiral took in the silhouette a bit more clearly. It was unmistakable to them. Rachel made the connection first;

"Jas, she's …. a Klingon."


	20. ACT TWO part 2

**StarBase 1**

**Promenade**

**George and Gracie Memorial Park**

 

**3 Weeks After the Optimum Incident**

 

Jexe lowered the PADD to the park bench where he sat and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

 

"That son of a ... " he groaned. Lifting his chin he took a single breath, looked at the latest FNS newsfeed on his PADD and thought one thing -- it could have been worse. His communicator beeped. Flipping it out he saw it was a personal audio message and quickly hit play. 

 

[Running late, but I'll be there in a few. See you then!] 

 

He smiled until he looked at the PADD again. The irony was his rendezvous was all because of what had happened. It was nearly three weeks ago ... 

_____________________

 

**Spacedock Medical**

 

"Hello Ensign ... " the man looked at his PADD. "... Patterson?"

 

Cassandra looked up from her PADD at the man standing at the curtain he'd pulled aside.

 

"Yes? What can I do for you? You're not my Doctor."

 

"Dr. Macy was called away on an emergency, so I'm here to check in on you." 

 

The man before her straightened his white lab coat and sat down on a small stool next to Cassandra's bed. He had chiseled good looks, perfect blonde hair and smokey, wolf gray eyes that numerous women had woken to after a night of just meeting him. He smiled at the redheaded Ensign and that too was flawless. 

 

The open ward in the center of the Starfleet Medical center was busy with the patients transferred from the USS Phobos. Fifty Patient beds, partition off by simple curtains were arrayed in a circular hub allowing doctors and nurses quick access to their cases. In the hub's center was a circular complex of transparent aluminium where offices, equipment and nurse centers were staged. 

 

"This won't take long," said the man with the smokey eyes. 

 

Withdrawing a small cylindrical device Dr. Macy's replacement ran it over Cassandra's body. Starting above her toes it emitted a musical hum. 

 

"I just saw the Phobos docked. Gotta say it looks like you guys were through one helluva battle." 

 

Stopping he adjusted his settings and began to scan again. 

 

"I mean I heard not only were you fighting against seditious members within Starfleet, but that there was even infighting within your own ship." 

 

His scan passed over the core of her body and hovered over her head. 

 

"Was that ... was that how Captain Drask was killed?" he asked.

 

[What kind of a doctor is this?] Cassandra wondered. "What are you talking about? Captain Drask...." She fought the surge of emotion that ran through her "Captain Drask gave his life in service to his ship. Who ARE you and why are you asking me these questions??"

 

A wrenching groan rose up from the other side of the curtain to the left of the Engineer's bed. 

 

"Doctor!" called a distressed voice. "It's my halitosis! God -- it's - it's killing me!" 

 

"Um ... just ... ah, hold on a minute," called back the man. His scanner hovered over Cassandra's head.

 

Cassandra narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Doctor - if you really are one - I think you should check that out."

 

Winching the man stashed his scanner back in his coat. 

 

"Hold that thought," he said with another dashing smile. Standing he walk around the partition. 

 

"All right, now what seems to be the -- Gaaa!"

 

Jexe O'Dag's hand gripped the man by the throat and lifted him clear off the floor. 

 

"You know ... my father's a CMO in Starfleet. It's funny, I know halitosis is the scientific term for

bad breath and ... " 

 

He pulled the man closer. 

 

"... you don't, doctor ... ?"

 

His fingers relaxed and the man dropped to his feet. Jexe's eyes burned into the man as he tenderly rubbed his throat. 

 

"I'll -- I'll sue you for this!" 

 

"From prison?" asked the Titan. "Which is where you're going for impersonating a Starfleet Officer." 

 

Despite his pains the man grinned, a featured that curdled his handsome face. 

 

"Sorry, legally I never said I was actually a doctor ... Captain ... " His eyes spotted Jexe's name tag. "O'Dag." His grin curled more. "How interesting." 

 

"Not really," said Jexe. "Why are you here, and why are you asking questionings about Captain Drask?" 

 

Holding his hands up in a submissive way the fake doctor slowly reached into his coat, withdrew a business card, and passed it to the Captain. Jexe's eyes darted down to it.

 

"Federation New Service," said the Titan in measured tones. 

 

"Yup. Our readers inquiring minds have a right to know what really happened around the rings of Saturn before Starfleet puts their official spin on the matter." 

 

"And you're the man to do it?' asked Jexe. 

 

"Who better. Surprised you haven't recognized me. I'm Gedeon Wolfe, FNS' top investigative reporter. 

I'm the man who broke the scandal on the tainted coffee plaguing Tellar Prime. Perhaps you've read my Pulitzer nominated story?" 

 

His hand trance an imaginary line across the air with a self-pleasing smirk. 

 

"The Cosmic Coffee Conspiracy ... " 

 

Jexe flicked the card into the man's chest.

 

"Yeah, I've read it. If you like bovine scatology in print it's a fun read. By the way all of your facts were wrong, and your conclusions off base." 

 

"I beg to differ," said the reporter with narrowed lids. 

 

"Could care less," said Jexe. He crossed his arms over his chest. "By the way, how did you get in here?" 

 

The reporter punched his hands into his pants pockets. 

 

"Oh I'm very friendly with a number of nurses on staff. Very. Friendly." 

 

His ugly grinned returned. 

 

"I'll note that in my report," said Jexe. 

 

"And I take it that you just happened to be in the bed next to Ensign Patterson, O'Dag? I find that very convenient," fired back the reporter.

 

The Titan shrugged. 

 

"My injuries aren't that severe. I traded my private room for those who really needed it." He knew Dr. Mender wouldn't be happy about his transfer request, but he knew his body's stress and reaction to the sun's radiation exposure wasn't that severe. 

 

"Riiight," said Wolfe crossing his arms over his chest and looking around the open ward. "An officer slumming it with the deck apes. That's believable."

 

"You mean like your writing? Speaking of ... have fun writing your story from the heart of Spacedock's brig." 

 

"What do you -- " 

 

Two hands clamped down on his shoulders and before Wolfe could react the two Security Officers Jexe summoned began to drag him away. 

 

"Wait ... I haven't done anything wrong. You're hiding something O'Dag! I know you are! -- " 

 

Jexe turned away and passed his attention to Cassandra. 

 

"Sorry," he said with a small frown. He moved closer, surprised himself by sitting down at the foot of her patient bed and lowered his head. "Obviously there's been a lapse in security, but ... that shouldn't have happened to you." 

 

"I, uh..." Cassandra was perplexed. "I don't understand what's going on. You seem to have a lot more experience with this kind of problem than I would have believed. What's going on and why are people doing this?"

 

The Titan thought back and the image of Drask was still fresh in his mind.

 

"All of this, including you and I being here, started when one man posed as a Starfleet Intelligence Officer. One act of deception nearly destroyed the Federation. Secrets, conspiracies, I won't have it start again."

 

Cassandra suddenly sat upright in her bed. "That scanner! It wasn't a scanner, was it??" 

 

"Oh, that," said Jexe with a lighter expression. Reaching into his pocket he remove an item and tossed it on Cassandra's bed. It was Wolf's medical scanner. 

 

"I took it from his coat when I had ... ahem, apprehended him," he said with a boyish grin. "Looks like a scanner on the outside, but it's really a diction device. He was planning on recording your words and most likely using them to suit his own needs."  

 

Cassandra picked up the device and turned it over in her hands. Her words... being twisted to someone else's end. A sudden memory hit her - Lieutenant Savion and the quantum torpedo program. Is this would have happened to her? Was he a victim of the same kind of attempt on her?

 

"Captain." She looked down for a moment and then back up, to his face. "I have some things to ask you about. They're kind of personal - permission to talk to you?"

 

"Permission granted, Ensign. I was about to visit Admiral VanHorne with my status report, but feel free to ask me anything." 

________________

 

 **Now ...**  

 

 

Jexe opened his eyes as he heard someone calling his voice. Standing he saw Cass walking towards him. She wore an elegant skirt, and cashmere sweater but even better was the smile she held for him. 

 

"I know ... I'm late, sorry. Couldn't be helped." Adjusting her hair she sat next to him and noted his stern look. Glancing cautiously over both her shoulders she took his hands in his.

 

"You ...," she said in a musical voice. "... do not look happy." 

 

"Does it show?" he asked and passed her his PADD. Her green eyes scanned the newsfeed then suddenly narrowed to a burning intensity. 

 

"That .... SON OF A! ... " 

 

He squeezed her hand. 

 

"Yeah, already said that!" 

 

"But ... it's all lies!" 

 

She waved the PADD angrily. 

 

"Wolfe's making it -- it sound like Captain Drask and I were ... " 

 

She lowered her head and voice at the same time. 

 

"... Involved," she whispered. 

 

"If it makes you feel any better it's a very veiled inference, one buried under piles of fact and anonymous statements," added the Titan. 

 

"Which are nearly all wrong!" she shook her head. "Oh God ... I can't breath!" She held her head in her hands." 

 

Lifting her chin with a finger he gazed into her eyes. 

 

"It doesn't matter. Despite all his investigating he didn't learn about one thing," he said with a boyish grin. She returned his smile. 

 

"Us," she said. She took his hand in hers again. "So ... where do we stand?" 

 

The new Captain waited for a Vulcan couple to walk by followed by a Tellarite jogger. 

 

"You mean what happens to us after our leave is over?" he asked in return. She nodded. 

 

"Yes. Both of us will get new postings. Your duty is to your crew and a new ship for them." 

 

"And you're awaiting word on your transfer request." his troubled expression returned. "Cassandra ... I don't want this to end, but ... " 

 

He stopped and stared into the distance. 

 

"Jexe?" she asked as she recognized his look. He was using his enhanced senses. 

 

"Something's going on," he announced and stood. "Some kind of commotion and ... " He glanced back to her.   "Admiral VanHorne and Rachel are involved." 

 

She rose and came to his side.

 

"We better hurry." 

______________________

 

**Captain Jexe O'Dag**

**Commanding Officer**

**USS Bonaventure NCC-1875**

 

**Ensign Cassandra Patterson**

**Engineering Officer**

**USS Phobos NCC-2786**

 


	21. ACT TWO part 3 "From Humble Seeds"

SPACEDOCK: Earth orbit SOL System, Sector 001  
  
Lieutenant T'Val walked purposely through the vast labyrinth that was Spacedock. She shifted her Starfleet tote on her shoulder as she sidestepped a cluster of personnel headed her way. Her internal clock told her she was running out of time; only 15 minutes to get to the ship that awaited to take her and Ensign Kitane to Utopia Planitia; the major shipyard in the Sol System. The cryptic message they had received one hour and 45 minutes ago from their colleague and friend, Lieutenant Kerovan Savion raised as many questions; more, actually – of why he was no longer on Spacedock than what was answered. What could have been so pressing that he essentially vanished 5 days ago, with only a vague message of eventual contact? She very much desired to know the how and whys of this mystery and she would have not admitted to anyone except those closest to her that she missed him.  
  
Reaching the turbolift, she waited for the next available car to arrive. There was no sign of Kitane, but she expected that as they both had widely separate quarters. The lift doors opened and she entered, along with several other station personnel. It would take just over 75 seconds to reach the Starfleet dock level and another 4 minutes to reach the berth of the ship. The lift took 74.3 seconds to reach the dock level she needed. Moving through the busy corridors, she reached her berth she needed within seconds of her anticipated arrival time. She presented the boarding slip to the attendant – the same Bolian Lieutenant who in fact presented T'Val and Kitane with the PADD and other information that set them on this course.  
  
"Good timing, Lieutenant." The Bolian said. "We will be departing in no more than 8 minutes. Your colleague is yet to arrive, however. Please take your seat as indicated."  
  
T'Val made her way to the seat marked on the pass. She was in a small ship; a courier of some sort. Unlike most other ships, this ship had high arched viewports, affording her an excellent view of the interior of Spacedock. There was much activity; ships slowly moving in and out of the station, several starships docked on the other side of the central core's docking structure across from her. The courier was docked in such a way that it would not need to turn itself around. She could see two of the new Constellation-class star cruisers, under repair. One had a missing nacelle; the other exhibited extensive hull scarring. She turned her head as she heard her head as she heard a familiar voice; Kitane had arrived, for which she was gratified. Kitane took his seat across from T'Val, facing her and the Bolian Lieutenant paused briefly as she passed by them.  
  
"We will be departing immediately. Once we clear Spacedock, our expected ETA to Mars will be 2 hours. The rest of the information on your PADDS has now been released. Please read your materials thoroughly as you will be proceeding to your assignments directly from our arrival at Utopia Planitia." The Bolian moved forward to the cockpit of the courier. There was the soft sound of undocking and the courier started to move away. Kitane looked transfixed at the damaged Constellations. "Those saw considerable action, sister."  
  
"Yes." She agreed. "Have you noticed that we are the only passengers on this vessel?" The courier easily could have seated 2 dozen passengers, but they were the only ones onboard. Inasmuch as she expected to turn her attention to the PADD, she – like Kitane – watched transfixed at the activity within Spacedock as the courier made it's way to one of the massive doors, open for their departure.  
  
In less than 5 minutes, the courier cleared Spacedock, rotated to a new heading and accelerated rapidly on a heading to Mars.  


Mars Orbit, 2 hours from Spacedock departure.  
  
The view from the courier viewports had Mars in all of it's glorious reds and browns and T'Val felt a pang of familiarity to Vulcan – however, Mars was a world much harsher than Vulcan and unable to support higher life forms on its own, but there were extensive operations and colonies established in great protective domes. Here, Starfleet had established a massive ship construction facility and somewhere in the Utopia Planitia complex, was their colleague, waiting for them.  
  
T'Val considered the information on her PADD, authorized by Admiral VanHorne. It contained a brief message from the Admiral as well as an apology from Savion and a promise of disclosure upon their arrival – something they both looked forward to. Kitane was busy looking over his PADD, intent on not missing a single thing. T'Val's reading of the information was fascinating; ship schematics and extensive technical information of a class that looked similar in overall performance to the Constitution Refits; however, she knew that the ships of this class were almost completely withdrawn from service in favour of new classes, such as the Constellations.  
  
The courier suddenly rotated it's position again without the two passengers feeling it, but they saw as Mars suddenly became larger. The courier altered it's course again and T'Val saw in the distance a small glittering shape in Mars orbit: Utopia Planitia Station, in geosynchronous orbit above the feature of Mars from whence it's name came from. It grew in their sight and more of the orbital structures came into view; rows of lattice work structures; the Docks. Many ships under construction were there – so many that it was difficult to focus in on only one dock.  
  
The courier slowed as it approached the station. The Docks passed out of immediate view as the courier lined itself up for docking and in minutes, there was a soft 'thud' as the courier's docking port locked on Utopia Planitia. The Bolian exited the control cabin. "Lieutenant, Ensign. We have docked – please proceed to the Station." and she continued to the docking doors. T'Val and Kitane slung their totes on their shoulders to where the Bolian waited. She smiled at them, for the first time. "Welcome to Mars." and she pressed the door activation studs.  
  
The port opened to the station and they passed through, T'Val detecting a slight shift in gravity differentials as they passed from ship to station. An Alpha Centauran male – a Lieutenant Commander, by his rank pin – waited for them to approach. "Welcome to Utopia Planitia. I am Zevon Hansen, Construction and Logistics. I will escort you to Operations." He indicated a direction down one of the branching corridors from their location and started walking that way. He did not indulge in any small talk, merely crossing his hands behind his back as he led the way through the complex.  
  
Before long, they were led to a large observation lounge. "Your colleague will join you shortly, Lieutenant, Ensign. Make yourselves comfortable and I will be seeing you later." He nodded to them and left through a set of doors on the walls opposite of the lounge windows.  
  
"Well!" Said Kitane. "Not terribly chatty, was he? I still don't know why we're here."  
  
T'Val had to agree. "We are overlooking something, Ensign. I do not believe that we were left in a totally random location." She looked out the windows, out which she could see six large docks holding ships in various stages of completion.  
  
Kitane looked out the viewports as well. "So, you think there's something we're meant to see?"  
  
"Yes, there is, but I wouldn't blame you if you haven't figured it out yet." A new but totally familiar voice came from behind them. They spun around to see Kerovan Savion coming towards them.  
  
"Brother!" Kitane exclaimed. He made a motion to move towards Savion, but Savion was quicker, reaching Kitane and gave his old friend a hug. "It's good to see you, old friend!" He pulled back, smiling. "I've been waiting for you to arrive."

He turned to T'Val. "Your presence is agreeable to me, Lieutenant." He said, stepping towards her. They came face to face – and he paused, straightened himself to attention and putting his hands behind his back, like Lieutenant Commander Hansen had done. "I trust you are well"? He said seriously.  
  
"I am well, Lieutenant." she replied steadily. "Although your departure from Spacedock requires explanation."  
  
"Yes, it does." he replied. “I am fully prepared to offer an account of my unexpected absence to you. However, there is one other matter to be discussed first.”

 

“And what would that be, Lieutenant?” T'Val responded coolly.

 

There was a momentary pause as they eyed each other. He broke out in a huge grin, and suddenly embraced her in a hug. "God, I MISSED you!" T'Val returned his hug, whispering in his ear, "And I did of you, t'hy'la".  


Kitane suddenly cleared his throat, noisily. "What did I tell you both about discretion?" He said sternly, but his grin didn't fool anyone. Savion laughed and broke his hug with T'Val. His fingers lingered on her hand and he squeezed it gently.  
  
"All right, I guess that's enough familiarity for now." He turned to the viewport in front of them. "My friends, I was finally able to convince the Admiral and Starfleet that I needed you. All of our hard work as a team is finally paying off. Did you read the specs I sent you? Yes? Good!" Savion motioned them to come right to the viewport. "Look over there, top right of those six docks." - pointing to a specific dock. "This is why I asked you to come... I need your help."  
  
"Is that....?" Kitane said wonderingly.  
  
"Yes, it's exactly what you think it is; our new ship. The Admiral asked me to help to get her ready and he pulled me out of Spacedock so fast I almost didn't get any message to you both at all – something I'm sorry about, by the way. I've been so busy – when I wasn't making a case to have you brought here to help – that I just couldn't get any message out."  
  
"What exactly is our assignment, Kerov-ahm?"  
  
"It's very simple, T'Val. We are bringing that ship to operational status and we are going to take her out on her first mission before too much longer. She was 85% completed but mothballed for a few years when the Constellation program superseded the ships you see here. When I came here, 4 days and a bit ago, the completion work had already started. Thanks to the Admiral – and a reconsideration by Starfleet of why this ship was mothballed before she was completed – she's now better than 90% done. There's only three ships like this and we're getting one of them. We have 4 days to get her completed and ready to take back to Earth. This is where you come in – the three of us have to get her warp program ready and the engines balanced by then. One thing you should know, her fuel supply is the new deuterium formulation. I know you didn't have any time to find out while we were on the Phobos, but that ship uses a deuterium slush as the matter reaction mass. I did have some time to inspect the Phobos' engineering spaces a bit before going on the mission to rescue you, so this configuration will require us to rethink what we used to do on the old Bonaventure. Believe it or not, that makes a difference to the plasma flow and we'll have to compensate accordingly."  
  
He turned to look at his friends. "We'll be going over there in a few hours. Commander Hansen has started running static warp tests on her drive coils so we have some data from the flow sensors... that's why we need the beginnings of a warp drive program pretty fast. I've already set up a framework using the Phobos' program to start with, but we'll have to tailor it for this ship. Time to get to work, I'm afraid – I've got a work space all ready for us. Let's get busy!"  
  
With that, Savion led them to a turbolift. He felt good – the team was together again and they had a challenge to complete. They were part of a select few to know right now what the Admiral knew. Plus, she was going to have the right name when she pulled into Spacedock.

 


	22. ACT TWO part 4

The Serengeti

Tanzania, Africa

Earth

 

 

He had been waiting since morning. 

 

            It was a good wait, too.   He had come in the early morning before sunrise, when the air was still and most of the herd was still asleep.   He had eaten a simple breakfast, a light fare consisting of el’thrr berries and some dried jerky, before he left.   The rule of a light breakfast had been one of many rules that his father had passed down to him from his forebearers, and of which he had observed with the strictest adherence for The Hunt.

 

            There were other rules, too.   The park preserve had made it extremely clear that hunters could only take the weak and wounded.  Any individual seeking to make game of a healthy animal would be fined and barred from the preserve for life.     Hunters were permitted to use hand weapons or any weapon fired by a means of gunpowder from a long list that had, fortunately, included Caitian weapons.   To ensure compliance of the rules, all hunters were required to wear tracking bracelets where they would be watched, literally, from the sky.   

 

            K’rilish grinned at the thought of the poor fool who had been given the task of watching him.   He was not like the other hunters who went out in gleaming four wheel drive trucks in large parties, and who were led by highly paid guides.   They were tourists more than they were hunters, and K’rilish had nothing to do with them after they mocked the g’rrshr spear that he had brought as his soul hunting weapon.    Their tune had changed when, after ten long hours on the plains they had come back to the ranch with nothing.   They had stood in bewilderment with their expensive rifles in hand while they watched K’rilish cut and cleaned the two gazelle that he had caught the morning earlier.   Even the guides, whose ancestors had walked the Serengeti for thousands of years, were impressed. 

 

            It had been one of those guides, an old grey haired man by the name of Abasi, who gave K’rilish the location of a special hunting location where he could find wildebeest.   It was calving season and although there were no rules by the preserve not to hunt wildebeest during the calving season, a certain decorum was expected.    With only a day left, K’rilish intended to hunt down such a beast.  

 

            As ugly a creature as the wildebeest was by K’rilish opinion, it was an incredibly alert and fast creature capable of running up to eight kilometers per hour.   They were herd creatures that, as their primary defense capability, sought protection by staying close and running.   There was very little room for error if K’rilish missed his quarry.

 

            Abasi had told K’rilish of a watering hole where he could find an outcropping from a much larger herd.  The calving season was ending and an abnormally longer than usual dry season was approaching.  The watering hole was already drying up but the wildebeest had not yet moved on.  If he were lucky, he would catch a weak or elderly one trying to drink at the muddy banks of the watering hole. 

 

            For four hours, K’rilish lay in a large swatch of short grass to the southern edge of the watering hole.  The herd was not foolish enough to sleep near the watering hole for fear of encountering other predators, but they would seek to drink sometime in the morning.   Keeping a careful eye on the wind, K’rilish settled into the grass and waited. 

 

            He was not disappointed.   He caught scent of the herd first. They were coming upwind and their musky odor was like a flag to K’rilish’s heightened sense of smell.   Looking over the tops of the short grass, his ears pressed back and his tail low, he saw the herd approach.   The strong males were in the lead with the females and the calves deep within the middle of the herd.   They moved slowly, their hooved feet making very little noise despite their large numbers.   The males approached the muddy banks first, their eyes scanning the surface of the water hole in search of alligators.   Hesitantly, carefully, they approached the edge of the water hole to drink.  

 

            Hunkering down into the grass, K’rilish watched as the rest of the heard approached the water’s edge.    Mothers would be close to their calves while the males, who had taken their fill of water would move toward the outer edge of the herd to keep watch. 

 

            The elderly and the sick ones would come up last.   Of them, there was always one, who strove too far away from the rest.   It was not much different than the plainsdeer on Cait expect that they had keen eyesight that often alerted them to a waiting hunter well before they acted.  

 

            It was about an hour after the herd arrived that K’rilish spotted his wildebeest.  He was an old sod with a limp from his left hindquarters where an ugly scar bore testament to a close call with a lioness.  K’rilish could see that his right eye was whitened, perhaps by disease, and as he moved up to the water’s edge, he made the mistake of turning his blind eye toward K’rilish.  

 

            The wildebeests hearing, however, was still keen.   Moving his right arm with his spear in paw, K’rilish paused as he watched the wildebeests ears flick upward.  It’s lifted its head from the water and it let out a concerned grunt.   Several other wildebeests nearby did the same, and the word of alarm quickly passed through the herd.   The mothers, choosing not to take any risks, began to push their calves away from the water’s edge

           

            The feeling of excitement welled up into the form of a knot in K’rilish stomach.  He could feel the muscles and fur in his arms and legs twitch with excitement.   His years of experience as a hunter told him that he had to act.  This was a cautious herd and they had taken in enough water for the morning before heading out to their grazing areas for the day.  The males were beginning to grunt and signal to the others to move.    The old wildebeest, however, made his second mistake.   He decided against his better judgment to take one more draw of water before calling it quits. 

 

            K’rilish sprung onto his feet.   By the time the old wildebeest raised its head, he had his arm drawn back.   The others of the herd were already running and with it the protection that it desperately needed.  It backed away from the water’s edge into the thick African mud and slipped.  Perhaps realizing its grievous error, it raised its head and gave a muted cry.  The spear, made of light Caitian wood, flew easily from K’rilish’s paw.  It sailed through the air, its spear tip a glint under the bright morning son, and it found purchase.   Its heart impaled, the wildebeest slumped into the mud.   Its death had been quick and respectful, the mark of a good hunter.

 

            Taking the Starfleet issued knife from the scabbard strapped to his thigh, K’rilish stepped through grass onto the muddy banks of the water hole to claim his prize. 

 

<<LATER>>

 

            “I think they hate you.”

 

            K’rilish looked up at Merissa as he packed the rest of the packaged meat into the portable cooler he had brought with him.   There were three other coolers that he had shipped back to Merissa’s home in Hawaii that were filled with his previous kills.  The meat, among other items from his kills, would not go to waste.  Along with his skills as a hunter, he could also prepare the meat he caught from his kills.

 

            “Who hates me?” K’rilish asked.  It was a redundant question because he knew what was coming next.

 

            “The other hunters,” Merissa said.  She gave a pleased smile.  “They say you’re showing off with your spear, and that you were being rude by not inviting any of them to your hunts.”

 

            K’rilish gave a derisive grunt.  “You only say that because you find their anger amusing.   I kill for sport, and to enjoy my game.  They do not.”

 

            “Of course I do.  I want to them to be angry of my big bad boyfriend,” Merissa said.   She walked up behind him and she ran her hand over his right ear.   “The implant has taken much better than I thought and the fur has grown back surprisingly well.  Does it still itch?”

 

            “A little,” K’rilish said.   He stared at the colorful dress that Merissa was wearing.   “You bought a new dress.”

 

            Merissa stepped back and she did a quick twirl.   “I love these dashikis!  I also bought some more baskets from the market.  You should see this cute little one that I think would look great in the foyer of the house.”

 

            “You’ve shipped back about thirty dresses, a ton of baskets, and…”

 

            “You have your meat that you’re going to make into jerky so don’t go there,” Merissa interrupted.  She waved her finger at K’rilish.  “I wasn’t crazy about coming to Africa, but now that I’ve fallen in love with this country and its people, I want to take something back.”

 

            K’rilish closed the lid on the cooler.   He paused for a moment in deep thought.

 

            “You’re thinking,” Merissa said.  Her smile faded.  “When you think like that, it’s something serious.    What is it?  Is it your Starfleet recertification exam?  I told you that you had it beat.”

 

            “No, it’s not that,” K’rilish said.  He paused and he brushed the back of his paw along the side of Merissa’s face.   “For a relationship that is three weeks old, we are becoming very comfortable with each other.”

 

            “So?” Merissa answered.  “We already talked about this, and I can guess what is bothering you again.”

 

            “It’s going to happen,” K’rilish replied.  He looked into Merissa’s eyes as if he were trying to convince her.  “I’m going to vanish in ten years.   You’ll still be young when that happens.  If I didn’t care for you as I do now, I wouldn’t be afraid of wanting you to seek happiness where you know it will last.”

 

            He could see that she was moved by the way her eyes began to glisten. Given Merissa’s background and personality, it was a sign of the trust that she had given K’rilish.  As prickly as she could be, she was also a very emotional woman who used her prickliness and humor as a means of protection.    This was in part to a three year relationship she had with a fellow medical intern who had deceived and cheated on her.   Within three weeks K’rilish had learned much about Merissa as well as divulging his own intimate details to the point that he was surprised at how easily he could talk to her about anything.   She was much like his wife in that she listened and offered advice on issues he had never considered.

 

              Merissa reached up and she took K’rilish’s paw in her hand.   “Look…I know it’s been a few weeks, and here we are behaving as if it’s been three years,” she said.  “Just three days ago we went through our first spat because you drove me crazy by leaving kitchen cupboard doors open without closing them.”

 

            “What does a cupboard does have to do with my time travel?” K’rilish asked. 

 

            “Shush!” Merissa answered.   “What I am saying is that…why mess up a good thing?   Ten years is a long time.   We may be split in a few month’s for all that we may know.  I don’t think so, but I have the right to be along for the ride as long as I want.   Unless you are trying to tell me that you don’t want a…”

 

            “No!” K’rilish snapped.   “I already told that I was concerned for your well-being ten years from now.  Why is it..”

 

            “Shush….again!” Merissa said.   She swatted K’rilish on the side of his face her hand.  “We’re not on a starship, and you’re not going to yell over me like I am a security officer.   I am asking you not to worry about me…for now…I’m okay because you told me what bothers you when you will never….ever…tell anyone including that Vulcan psychologist Starfleet had you go and see.”

 

            K’rilish pulled his ears back and he growled.  “She tried to say that I suffered insecurities because my mother did not pay me enough attention when I was a kit.”

 

            Merissa let out a laugh.   “You’re future would never had happened if you carried out that threat you gave her.”

 

            “Maybe I should have done it,” K’rilish said in a low voice.  He looked at Merissa. 

 

            “Shoving a psychologists sofa up their backside would be a feat I would gladly pay for,” Merissa said, “but I would be selfish to know that people who are yet to be born would suffer as a result.  It goes against my oath…and yours.  Can we please change the subject?  It’s a beautiful day and we only have one day left here.”

 

            K’rilish was glad to change the subject.   He reached into the pocket of his vest and produced a PADD.   “We can go and check this out,” he said. 

 

            “Was is it?” Merissa asked.  She took the PADD and she stared at it. 

 

            “It’s a house, an old coffee plantation that Abasi’s uncle is wishing to sell.  It has thirty acres overlooking the preserve.   I bought it this morning.”

 

            “You bought a house?   What about Cait?” Merissa said.  She looked at K’rilish with astonishment.

 

            “My people say I can come home to live but I cannot reclaim my name.  I am not permitted to see my son from the crimes he committed, and my brother is dead to me.  My family name is gone forever.    I have no home, but this place is close enough.”

 

            Merissa shook her head.  “Don’t say your family name is gone forever.  It is much too valuable to you.”

 

            K’rilish gave a wide smile, one that would have surprised anyone on the Bonaventure had they seen it.  They never would, either, if he could help it. 

 

            “Everything of value, I have here,” he said.   He took Merissa and he pulled her close to him.

 

            _For now_.

 

 


	23. ACT TWO part 5

**Earth Spacedock**

**Docking Bay 7**

**Three weeks ago ...**

_______________________

 

Owen watched as the prisoners were marched over a gangplank under an escort of Starfleet Security Officers (not Marines he noted). Shackled, their faces were held low in defeat, or shame. He figured both. Ahead was a line of armored transports flanked by even more heavily armed escorts, some on mechanized areo-bikes. Starfleet was taking no chances with the transfer of its prisoners, each one a traitor to their oath and service to the Federation and the people they swore to protect. 

 

He spotted P'Ree. He half raised his hand to call when she turned. They locked eyes and he tried to gauge her look. Finally, she glanced away, head hung low and ears flat against her head. Without ceremony he was ushered into the back of a transporter along with several members of the Hathaway and Constellation. Something cold dropped in the pit of his stomach. 

 

"Owen!' 

 

He turned. 

 

"Renn?" 

 

No one was more shocked than he upon seeing one of his best friends. He wasn't alone. At his side was Mandy Dover, Tara O'Neil, Kezz-An, Wexella and ... 

 

"Celeste?" 

 

The Human Nurse gave Owen a fragile look. The Science Officer's smile broadened. He didn't realize how good it felt just to see his friends again. 

 

"O-man, bring it in!" hollered Renn with open arms. Before he could blink Owen was crushed at the center of a group hug. Seconds later he could breath. 

 

"I-I don't understand, how ... how'd you know I was here?" asked the Science Officer. Kezz stepped forward. 

 

"I heard though the Quartermaster's grapevine about the prisoners on this level," said the Andorian Yeoman. 

 

"And when we didn't see you leave with the rest of the crew ... " finished Wex. The Aaamazzarite shrugged under her uniform jacket, one she'd spun herself. Owen nodded in understanding, then suddenly looked at Renn. 

 

"Wait -- Renn? -- You're walking!" 

 

The Bolian beamed and broke into a spindly jig, one ending in a flashy display of jazzhands. Owen laughed. 

 

"This is terrific!" 

 

"Yeah? Well it get's better, in case you've forgotten," said Renn. Turning he pulled Mandy forward where the blushing Medical-Yeoman presented her left hand and the sparkling engagement ring on her finger. 

 

"Hell to the yeah!" Owen hugged them both. "Knew I didn't hallucinating that part!" He stepped back and gazed at friends. "Have you set a date?" 

 

The couple shook their heads. 

 

"To be honest we haven't thought of anything since you guys left," said Mandy. 

 

"We've been glued to the new feeds hoping that, well ... everyone would be back in one piece," added Renn. 

 

"Because, you know, we weren't there to help you out." Kezz-An's cunning Andorian grin spoke volumes and Owen laughed out loud. 

 

"Celeste? ... " Tara's hushed voice caught the group's attention. Moving together they spotted the Nurse staring off in the direction of the prisoners. 

 

"Goot?" she called out. One of the prisoners stopped at the sound. Owen felt his heart jump. It _was_ Gutierrez. Like P'Ree he too had been thrown back in time and taken in by the Optimums.  

 

"Renn ... what happened to Celeste?" asked Owen in a whisper. "I heard she was involved in Palmer's murder?" 

 

The Bolian gave his head a subtle shake. 

 

"She'd been kidnapped like the other hostages, but the Optimums tricked her into thinking Goot was a prisoner too, and would be killed unless she did what they asked." 

 

"She escaped soon after they beamed her back from the Phobos, and turned herself in," said Mandy. "Poor thing's been through emotional hell." 

 

Like P'Ree, Gutierrez was filed into a transport, but not before giving one parting look in Celeste's direction.

 

"Owen." This time it was Wex who spoke. "Was -- was that P'Ree we saw getting into a wagon?" 

 

Owen's face drew tight revealing deep lines around his mouth. 

 

"I'm sure you've heard a lot of things since we've gotten back." He turned and faced his friends. "But ... P'Ree's not a traitor." 

 

He hooked his chin towards the caravan. 

 

"Those bastards stole her, tortured and brainwashed her into something she's not. I mean to see she's given a fair trial, and fully de-programed ... no matter what." 

 

"She will," said Kezz. "And we're here for you -- for P'Ree. We'll get through this." Her hand rested on his shoulder. The transports closed their doors and begin to fire up their gravity coils. Lifting off the docking bay tarmac the caravan filed out of the terminal in a wail of sirens and aero-bike thunder. Owen watched until the last one was gone. 

 

"Lt. Cross?"

 

The friends shifted to spot a rugged young man dressed in the uniform of a Starfleet JAG Officer. Neatly groomed with closely cropped curly dark hair and sable brown skin his swimmer's build gave him an air of action and strength. 

 

"My name is Lt. Austin Nash. I'm your wife's court appointed attorney." 

 

The man's smile was friendly, his shake firm. 

 

"Admiral Peter Liverakos II has given you and Celeste full clearance to attend your wife's and Senior Chief Gutierrez's interrogation and hearings," announced the attorney. 

 

"Forgive me for saying this," began Owen. "But ... I was expecting someone a little ... " 

 

"Older?' asked Nash. "Yeah, get that a lot. Not to worry, sir. In a case like this ... it's not my first rodeo." 

 

Owen rose his brows and exchanged looks with Renn. 

 

"Aye that," he said. 

 

"Not to rush, but -- " he gestured behind him were a gravity-car waited with the back door opened. "We've a lot a work to do." 

 

Owen pursed his lips. 

 

"Go on," said Renn. "Tara's got us a suite here on Spacedock. We'll be in touch." 

 

Owen almost forgot Tara's family were one of the top chocolate exporters in the Federation. Despite her Yeoman rank she was an heiress to an astounding fortune and well ... rich. Looking over his shoulder he held out his hand. 

 

"Celeste," he called. The attractive Nurse came up and took his. 

 

"When I called, he turned. He recognize my voice," she said in a quiet tone. Owen squeezed her hand. 

 

"I know. He's in there. We're going to get them back." 

 

Leaning on his shoulder he led her into the awaiting car. Nash stepped into the front passenger side compartment, and after both doors where secured the conveyance lifted and glided out of the bay. 

 

"Do -- do you think they can?" asked Mandy. "Bring them back ... both P'Ree and Henry?"

 

"They have to," said Renn. "They have to." 

 

_______________________

 


	24. ACT TWO part 6

**Tycho City, Luna (Earth's Moon)**

**Marson Arms Penthouse.**

**Now ...**

 

Owen walked through the ornate front doors of the spacious apartment and let out a long sigh. 

 

"Lights," he ordered. Second later ceiling scones illuminated the marble floor hallway and cherry stained walls. Despite the past three weeks the penthouse still seemed like someone else's home. It had once been his sisters, Junior Senator Lara Cross of the Federation Senate, but it had only been a few years ago that she'd been murdered at the hands of an Andorian serial killer. He missed her terribly. Her will had left the penthouse to Owen and P'Ree. Given how often they'd been away from Earth, care of the place hand fallen to its steward, Colin, a quiet English man who was getting on in years. Owen had planned to sell the place and put the credits towards their retirement home somewhere on Cait. 

 

He hoped that was still possible. 

 

Taking off his jacket he walked towards a wall console and saw he had a few messages. One was from Austin. He hit play. 

 

[Hey Owen, hope your doing well. I've got good news, and bad. The motion to delay P'Ree's and Henry's hearing has been accepted. Though she still refused to talk, the information Goot gave about where they were inducted into the Optimum's has given us a lead to a remote location somewhere. It's near the polar cap on Andor. I've been ordered along with the field team to investigate the site. Now for the bad. I could be gone for up to a month or more. Based on the court's rules regarding P'Ree you're not allowed to see, or contact her without my presence. I'm -- I'm sorry, Owen, there's just no other way around this. With luck, I won't be gone long. Call me back as soon as you can. Austin out.] 

 

Owen sat down and held his head in his hands. The past weeks had been an emotional roller coaster with each of his visits to P'Ree ending in a screaming match of hatred and rejection. He wondered if any progress was being made, but he couldn't give up. Anything unthinkable. 

 

H looked up at the only sound in the room, and antique wall clock.

 

Still, maybe a break could give P'Ree a sense of perspective, a taste of what her life in prison would really be like without his visits. Austin had spoken about being and hanging tough. Maybe he was right. Looking back at the console he spotted another message. It was from Jexe. 

 

"Computer, play next message," he commanded. 

 

[Hey Owen, hope you're doing okay. Renn and I are on Starbase 1. Listen, there's only a few days left of our leave. Sorry I've been out of touch ... ]

 

Owen knew his best friend, and Admiral VanHorne had been equally involved in debriefing and testimonial hearings as much as he was with P'Ree's trial.

 

[ ... but we'd love to see you. One last night on the town. 603 Club. Nine O’clock.]

 

The Science Officer pulled a small grin. 

 

"You know what ... what the hell," he said. Standing, he picked up his coat and headed towards the door. He gave the place one last lingering look then said,

 

"Lights." 

 

The scones blinked out and he walked out the doors. 

 

_______________________

 

**Lt. Owen Cross**

**Science Officer**

**USS Bonaventure NCC-1745**

 


	25. ACT TWO part 7

Spacedock One

Administrative Offices

 

“We would appreciate your keeping the matter private, Dr. Rotek.  Despite the recent accounts, we don’t want the media outlets to get the wrong impression.”

 

            Rotek’s left eyebrow arched upward in response to the comment.  He ran his hands down the neatly pressed creases of his new suit while Commodore Traupman stared at him expectantly. 

 

            “I see no point in discussing the events that transpired aboard the USS Bonaventure or the Phobos, Commodore,” Rotek said.   “As I have said, the unpleasant matter is closed to me personally.”

 

            Commodore Traupman relaxed visibly.   “We appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Rotek.   Starfleet has already taken your request into consideration, and they have approved your application to join the _USS Sagan_ on its maiden voyage to Gallean III as a civilian science advisor.”

 

            “It was a wise decision on Starfleet’s part, “Rotek replied.  “I am the best botanist next to my father.”

 

            It was an arrogant statement but one that Rotek knew was true.   It also put Commodore Traupman off.   His smiled faded.  “Yes…right,” he began.  “The _Sagan_ is here at Spacedock as she undergoes her final inspections, Doctor.   If you would like to inspect the science labs, you are free to do so.  Your input on the equipment and arrangements will be important.”

 

            “That is a logical assessment, and I will do so accordingly,” Rotek answered.  He stood up and he bowed his head at Commodore Traupamn.  “Thank you, Commodore.”

 

            “It’s the least Starfleet can do for what your brother has done for us,” Commodore Traupman said.  He looked into Rotek’s eyes with sincerity.   “Good voyage.”

 

            It had been a cursory meeting, one that Rotek found logical and worthy of his time.   He knew that the primary reason for his meeting Commodore Traupman was to give his assurance as a civilian that he would not discuss the incidents that had transpired aboard the _Bonaventure_.   The matter of his request to join the _USS Sagan_ had already been decided and the Commodore had been using it as a carrot to get Rotek’s assurance. 

 

            To be honest, Rotek would do anything to get to Gallean III.  A new planet thriving with fauna would be an achievement any botanist would seek in a long and prestigious career.   The fact that Solkar had given this information to him as a gift was not forgotten, either.   Rotek was going to ensure that whatever claims that the Vulcan government would make with his accomplishments would also come with a caveat; that they would have to acknowledge Solkar’s contribution.  V’tosh’ka’tur or not, Solkar would take his logical place in the family line and close an ugly chapter that Rotek now believed should have never taken place. 

 

            The _USS Sagan_ was relatively easy to find.   Vulcans had contributed to the design of Spacedock One and finding a berthed ship in the central docking ring was only a matter of looking at a directory and going to a specially numbered area.   

 

            The _Sagan_ , like the _USS Tyson_ , was a Miranda class starship that had been retrofitted into the service of a fully function, and exceptional science vessel.  Rotek stared at the vessel through the window by the docking bay as he waited for the tender craft to arrive.   The ship was not docked at the docking ring due to the fact that it was being tested and had recently returned from a shakedown cruise.    The use of tenders and shuttlecraft were necessary.

 

            Once the tender arrived, Rotek entered the tiny craft.   In addition to the cockpit at the front the craft had two rows of seats on both sides of its bulkhead.   It was still early in the morning and only two crewman joined Rotek on the tender.  They were human males, roughly in their late twenties.  One of them was taller than the other with short cropped hair and the other was smaller, with a wiry frame and wide eyes.   They sat down across from Rotek. 

 

            From the very moment that the two men sat down, Rotek found these two men highly unpleasant.   For starters, they both liked to talk. 

 

            “We ain’t gettin’ back, Plunkett!” the tall one called out. “ Ain’t no way, no how, so you may as well just sit yer’ backside down on that seat and get used to what is comin’.”

 

            The wiry one, Plunkett, shook his head.  “I know what yer saying,” he responded in the same choppy accent.  “I am not a bleedin’ fool.  I’m just sayin’ that if we play our cards right, that we may get back on the Bonnie.  You know, Mac, I find you a highly negative individual.  You are what people call a pessimizer.”

 

            “That’s pessimist!” Macleane shot back.  “Why don’t you read the dictionary instead of crying about your wife all the time?  Now that’s pessimism!”

 

            “Take that back about Rosie!” Plunkett growled. 

 

            Rotek decided that he had had enough of these individuals.  He stood up and he started quickly for the door only to be stopped by an Andorian.   He held out his hand to stop Rotek.

 

            “I need you to take a seat,” the Andorian said in a commanding voice.  “I got a schedule to run.   We have make a quick trip to McKinley to pick up a few pallets of equipment before I can get you over to the _Sagan_ , so get comfortable.”

 

            Rotek watched as the Andorian slapped his hand on a control panel and the airlock door began to slide shot.    “I would very much like to take the next craft over to the _USS Sagan_ ,” he insisted. 

 

            “That’s not going to happen,” the Andorian said.  He walked past Rotek without any further word, and he took his place at the cockpit.   

 

            Unable to leave, Rotek returned to his seat where the Plunkett and Macleane had gone quiet.  They were both staring at him with blank stares. 

 

            “Who are you?” Macleane asked. 

 

            “I am Doctor Rotek,” Rotek answered.  He tried to sound civil.  “I have been posted aboard the _USS Sagan_ as a member of the civilian science team.”

 

            “Eh?” Plunkett said.  He leaned forward and he looked at Rotek with a curious look.  “What’s a botanist?  That like a dentist or something?”

 

            Macleane stared at the ceiling of the craft and he rolled his eyes.  “You bloody twit!  He’s someone who studies flowers and plants for a living.”

 

            “Heh!  He’s a flower doctor!” Plunkett answered. “Now I know who to go to when Rosie calls up crying that her petunias are wilting!”

 

            Rotek sighed inwardly.  He pressed his fingertips together and he struggled to maintain his inner calm.    “Are the two of you posted to the _USS Sagan_?” he asked. 

 

            Macleane shook his head.   “That is right, Doctor.   Plunkett and I have been assigned to the security department.  I believe we’ll be keeping you safe while you pick flowers on some alien world somewhere.   Don’t you worry, either, we got your back!”

 

            “Anyone on the Sagan is a friend of ours,” Plunkett added. “Hey, Doc, while I got you, what do you think about roses?  My wife, Rosie, has been talkin’ about planting some in the back yard, but I told her that there’s too much sun during the day.  I was wondering what you thought about that.”

 

            Rotek pressed his fingers together to the point that his knuckles began to turn white.   The tender had yet to leave the station, and he was already struggling to maintain his calm with these two men who were a constant irritant.

 

            _Two years_ , he thought.  He had signed a contract with the Starfleet to serve for two years after which all findings would be his to claim.   Breaking the contract would award some other botanist the findings of Gallean III and embarrass Rotek before the scientific community. 

 

            _Two years…with these men._

 

            Inside, Rotek began to scream.

 


	26. ACT TWO part 7B

Starbase 1 → Quarantined Interior Birth 7  
Freighter L'Eikenok  
  
The filthy, smelling interior of the ship was so bad that they were advised to wear protective masks and gloves as they surveyed the ship. The moss growing over the deck was a result of an unabated fungal colony that had bred unabated due to a proliferation of bacteria in the interior ventilation shafts. The synthesizers that had been processing their only forms of sustenance had sustained so many regenerative cycles that the sludge it produced could not even be distinguished as nutrition of any sort. The proliferation of colony rats had overtaken the lower decks, and once the Admiral stepped aboard, he was keenly aware that dozens of eyes from faraway worlds were staring back at him.  
  
"The Klingon colony worlds," the 23 year old man with the cropped green hair and yellows eyes said, "–if you can call them colonies—of Shriebitz, Dok, and Moldo'Qos, are currently under a wave of orbital bombardment by a deranged Klingon General named Maskan."  
  
"Perhaps that explains why these people were so desperate to leave, Lieutenant Vril." VanHorne said, pointing to the Orion helmsman, who seemed to stand just an inch or two taller now. His boots were shined, and there was no trace of a crease in his uniform. The promotion had prompted the young man, once a hoodlum at risk for being a street gang leader—to take a leadership role amongst the younger midshipmen.  


"Those colony worlds came under attack nearly two months ago." He continued, his Orion accent almost gone, "This ship must have just escaped Maskan before his own government condemned him."  
  
"How do you know so much about Klingon politics?"  
  
"I majored in intergalactic political affairs. Part of my graduation from midshipman. And sir…"  
  
"Yes, Vril?"  
  
"Thank you for rescuing my sister."  
  
"You can thank the crew of the Bonaventure for rescuing Severine. I had very little to do with the outcome."  
  
He paused, looking at the outline of the Tellarite Captain's seat. Worn through leather with stuffing exposed. The sweated through armrests of a man who hadn't slept much in weeks of navigating his starving, beleaguered crew through the worst that Klingon controlled space could throw at him.  
  
"The trip across the Klingon frontier and into our space must have been infernal." VanHorne said, stopping himself from sitting himself in the center seat, noting that the helm station looked as if it were covered in blood, and…  
  
"The whole ship smells like bile." Vril said, his green nose twitching beneath the mask, his gloved hand careful not to touch anything.  
  
"When they lost their backup systems, the Captain had to make some very serious choices," VanHorne said, his voice in a detached, mellow state indicative that he was giving serious thought to the faceless skipper's plight. He stood slightly in front of the chair, and gazed toward the plain, glass shield that functioned as a viewer.  
  
"Do I…." He mentally put himself into the mind of the Tellar Captain, "….get these people through Klingon space for my paltry fee, or do I jettison the whole lot and continue on with just cargo…"  
  
Vril stood back, unsure if he should still be engaging the Admiral.  
  
"If I jettison them…." VanHorne continued, almost dreamlike, "…that'll lighten the ship's energy burden, and I can get through with auxiliary power, but…..what about customs….do I lie my way through…."  
  
The older man sat down into the chair, oblivious to the previous warnings of bacterial contamination throughout the ship. He seized both armrests with his gloved hands, and closed his eyes, trying to channel whatever man (or woman) had brought this freighter here.

"When the first dozen people start dying, I can suspend the synthesizer rations….when the dylithium starts cracking from overuse, I can save power by siphoning atmospheric control……take the dampers down to cargo level….lower the lights…."  
  
Vril cleared his throat, "….Admiral."  
  
VanHorne opened his eyes, as if he had been momentarily lost. He slowly turned  
his head, "Have Captain O'Dag declare this ship a total loss, and suspend the investigation. I want her scuttled immediately. Call up the demolitions team."  
  
Vril nodded, "Aye. At once."  
  
VanHorne stood, and began walking down the slender spiral walk that lead down to the split level and the universal docking port, "The contamination results are in," Vril said, his tricorder beeping, "though we're in no apparent danger at all." Vril said, showing the screen to the older man.  
  
The results were not at all what VanHorne expected.  
  
"Smallpox??" He said, reading from the screen.  
  
At once, the tricorder's screen changed to a video hail, as an emergency call came through from the security officer on duty.  
  
"We're done here, and heading back to harbor control, Jas." Lieutenant Rachel Osgoode said from the base infirmary, "We'll meet you there in 15 minutes. These people are all refugees from the Klingon Colony World Famine."  
  
VanHorne nodded, exiting the ship, and walking through the intense fields of force radiation that were at work eradicating the microparticles that they had absorbed on the ship. As they walked further into the station, leaving the freighter behind, VanHorne nodded, "There's going to be quite a few more of them, I take it."  
  
"Border patrol reports are pouring in, now. The refugees could be into the millions."  
  
Vril shook his head, as if to say "not good."  
  
Osgoode continued, "Federation News Service has been covering the story for months, though there's been no official Starfleet response."  
  
VanHorne stepped to the transporter platform with Vril, nodding to the technician on duty that it was time to energize.  
  
"There will be one now." He said to her, not missing a beat. He noticed something in her periphery, and could see it was the small Klingon girl that had been chased through the upper level promenade. He looked askance, "Where exactly is she going?"  
  
Rachel glanced to the side of her, and almost immediately the little girl scurried forward, burying her head into the woman's burgundy tunic. The little refugee closed her malnourished arms desperately around the blonde lieutenant, who stared directly back at VanHorne with unwavering eyes. She said one word, and in it, was the unwavering timbre of a command:  
  
"Home."  



	27. ACT TWO part 8

Utopia Planitia Station  
  
Mars orbit Sector 001  
  
DAY THREE: 25 HOURS TO LAUNCH  
  
Savion leaned over the console, between Kitane on his left and T'Val on his right. "How's the program going?" He asked.  
  
"Very good, brother." Kitane said. "The Phobos fuel consumption figures are a little low for the new ship but we're adjusting them. In the simulator, it's looking very good at least. Commander Hansen is continuing to forward the plasma flow sensor data as well as the coil efficiency figures. There is a distinct warp signature developing and..." he pointed to several points on his display - "the predictive software is producing estimations very close to the actual data being received. I'm still working on reducing the fuel consumption for maximum power efficiency."  
  
"Good work, brother. How about you, T'Val?"  
  
"The warp field configuration is progressing well. In spite of the well-known field dynamics of this class, the new power output figures do require adjustment for optimal field shape and power to these new style of warp coils. As soon as Ensign Kitane can provide reasonable fuel consumption figures, I will be able to properly conclude adjusting the warp field."  
  
He put his hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed it. "Excellent work – both of you. I don't see anything to add to what you're doing at the moment. Just so you know, we have only 25 hours left before launch."  
  
"Understood, brother." Kitane said. "I'll have the fuel figures for sister T'Val as soon as possible."  
  
T'Val looked up at Savion. "Kerov-ahm, producing a warp program on the simulator is one thing. We will not be able to test it before reaching Spacedock. It is not logical."  
  
"Actually, T'Val, we don't need to test it before then. We're going to be carrying a full work crew to Spacedock as they will be transferring to a damaged Constellation class ship there and pilot her back for full repair completion here. From launch, we're taking 8 hours to return to Spacedock in order to maximize the final ship system activations. I received word from Mr. Hansen just before coming here to tell you that we are now at 98% completion and we will get to 99% when we leave here. Warp tests will be done from Spacedock once we start getting our regular crew onboard and familiarized with the new equipment configuration."  


Savion straightened up and put his hand on both of their shoulders. "With your help, we - and I mean all of us – will have her done and ready. I'm proud of both of you!"  
  
"Let the program build on its own for now. I want you to come with me – we're going over to the ship. Ah! No arguments! This is an order!" Savion made sure he had a smile when he said that. It was the first time in a long time he had to say that. Kitane and T'Val only somewhat reluctantly got up from their chairs and they followed Savion to an airlock. "We've got a travel pod to use, my friends. We're going to have a good look at the ship today."  
  
They entered the Pod and the doors closed behind them. Savion operated the controls and the Pod pulled away from Utopia Planitia Station. The Pod arced gracefully towards the new Bonaventure and many Work Bee cargo trains passed back and forth between the Pod and the Bonaventure.  
  
Savion adjusted some controls and they flew high, coming in over the saucer. The name USS Bonaventure was already on the hull, with only the "NC" of her hull registry applied. They came in high over the saucer, looking at the top of the ship in all of it's lines. Savion thought she was a perfectly realized form, the lines and curves all flowing together in the perfect shape. His friends were silent, taking in the view. Savion moved the Pod down between the rear of the engines to just past the ship's stern. He took the Pod past the ship's secondary hull, moving forward until they passed the secondary hull and he headed for the docking port that was set into the lower saucer; the doors normally closed there were wide open, revealing the docking port within. He spun the Pod around, slowly backed it until the docking collar engaged with a soft thump and the latches engaged. He shut the Pod's thrusters down and went to the airlock doors. Thumbing the door code, they were suddenly treated to the interior of a new ship. There were several of Utopia Planitia's work crew moving back and forth further down the corridor. Savion stepped into the ship, motioning his friends to follow. They took a turbolift to the Bridge, where technicians were working on the consoles. To the untrained eye, it looked like chaos; but to the three Engineers... it was a complex ballet in motion as systems were checked, double-checked and verified for space operations.  
  
"Mr. Hansen!" Savion said, to a figure leaning over the helm. Zevon Hansen straightened up and smiled. "Mr. Savion. Right on time, I see." He walked over to the Captain's Chair and pressed some of the buttons on one arm. "Attention please!" Mr. Hansen said – and his voice echoed not only on the Bridge, but all over the ship over the ship-wide intercom. The hum of voices quieted down and in seconds, it was quiet on the Bridge.  
  
"It is my pleasure to announce to you that everyone's work here has been outstanding. As of... now." A chime sounded - "We are in pre-launch countdown. In 24 hours, the Bonaventure launches!" A hum of excited voices started to rise. "One moment, please." .. and the voices subsided again. "It is my pleasure to welcome Lieutenant Savion, Lieutenant J.G. T'Val and Ensign Kitane aboard as the official representatives of the new Bonaventure. Their hard work will complete what we have worked hard to achieve. That is all, continue your assignments!"  
  
The work crews started their conversations and soon, the Bridge was as noisy as it had been. "Lieutenants, Ensign, will you join me at the Lounge?" Mr. Hansen asked. "Of course" - and soon they found themselves in the relatively quiet Officer Lounge at the base of B/C deck. There was a long curved table and they all sat at it.  
  
"Mr. Hansen, your crews have conducted outstanding work." Savion said. "I have rarely seen such industrious attention to details. I am very impressed with you and your crew."  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Savion. It will be gratifying to see this ship do what she was built to do." He looked at the three officers. "Now, we must discuss her launch. Are you prepared to take her home?"  
  
Savion looked at his friends – Kitane smiled and nodded, T'Val gave a single nod. He looked back to Mr. Hansen "Yes, we are. As soon as we get a Bonaventure officer from Spacedock of appropriate rank to command her."  
  
Lieutenant Commander Hansen got an odd look on his face. "I don't think you understand, Lieutenant. My orders state that YOU will be in charge of taking her home."  
  
"What?" It was Savion's turn to look stunned. "I can't take command! I'm not qualified...!" T'Val reached across to him and put her hand on his. "Be at peace, Kerov-ahm." She turned to Hansen. "From whom are your orders from, Commander Hansen?"  
  
"Admiral VanHorne, Lieutenant. He will be getting the new Command crew ready and can't spare anyone plus he feels that the ship should be commanded by a current crew member. We are not expecting anyone else, Lieutenant and you are the senior Bonaventure officer here."  
  
"Then Lieutenant Savion will handle commanding the ship, Mr. Hansen. I believe he is merely surprised. Would you give us a few minutes, please?"  
  
"Of course." Zevon Hansen got up from his chair. "I'll return in 5 minutes." He headed to the Lounge's doors and left.  
  
Kitane grinned ear to ear and thumped Savion's back. "Congratulations, brother! A shot at the centre seat!"  
  
"I am proud of you, t'hy'la." T'Val said. "You have worked hard and you have earned this opportunity."  
  
"I'm... I'm just an Engineering Lieutenant....!" Savion sputtered, still shocked.  
  
"You are far more than you believe, Kerov-ahm. I have faith in your abilities."  
  
"As do I, brother." Kitane said gravely. "Trust in yourself, like we do. We wouldn't be here if you hadn't been part of this."  
  
"Kerov-ahm, the man who saved the Admiral and us on the old Bonaventure is more than capable of commanding this ship to Spacedock."  
  
Savion slumped back in his seat. "Oh, man. The centre seat." He closed his eyes and composed himself. It was just a short hop across the Sol system; they wouldn't even be going to warp, remaining at impulse all the way. "I'm going to have to review the launch protocols, then."  
  
"That's the way to think!" Kitane grinned. T'Val nodded. "We will help you with that. We are all agreed then." Both men nodded with T'Val. Savion knew he couldn't logically argue his way out of this.  
  
The door chime sounded. "Enter" came three voice simultaneously. Mr. Hansen couldn't understand why Kitane and Savion were laughing when he came back in. Returning to the seat he vacated, he folded his fingers together in front of him. "Well?"  
  
"I'll do it, Mr. Hansen." Savion said. "I'd like to review your procedures for launch as soon as possible."  
  
"Very good, Mr. Savion." Hansen stood up again and extended his hand. Savion extended his own with just a slight hesitation and the men shook on it. "I'll arrange that to be available to you on your return to your work station, then. Shall we commence a pre-launch inspection of the Engineering spaces, then?"  



	28. ACT TWO Part 8B--"Like a Phoenix From the Ashes, Rising Again"

Utopia Planitia Station, Mars orbit Sector 001  
  
DAY FOUR- Launch T-30 minutes.  
  
Kerovan Savion paced nervously in the Officer's Lounge. Never before had he been this nervous – well, not since he got his commission. It would not be long before the ship would leave Utopia Planitia Station and head to Earth for her final tests and outfitting. The PADD with the launch procedure lay on the table as Savion paced. Kitane watched Savion pace. "You are making this much harder on yourself than it needs to be, brother." he said.  
  
"I can't help it, old friend! This isn't just something you do everyday!"  
  
"Maybe not you, but the Captain does. So does the First Officer and from what I hear, even the Chief Engineer does, on other ships."  
  
"That's not helping, you know" Savion continued to pace. "Do you know that in all the time I've had ship assignments, I've never taken a watch on the Bridge? Not even once! I've always been too far down the list to make Bridge duty rotation. In fact... I hardly spent any time on the Bridge. That all changed after the J-25 action when I jumped to the top of the Engineering list."  
  
"I've never been on Bridge con duty myself, and I'm not uptight about it, brother. I just don't see your point."  
  
"This is a new ship! I don't want order us out only to scrape the hull against part of the dock or hit something that will cause damage!"  
  
Kitane snorted. "Brother, that only happens in fiction and you know it. That so-called "historical document" that's always been referred to has never been verified or found to be credible. I'm telling you, you're worrying over nothing! I also know for a fact that our sister hasn't pulled Bridge duty, either. It's of no concern to her!"  
  
"Right now, I wish I had her confidence and poise."  
  
"Brother, how can you be as intimate with her as you are and not NOT know her that well? In where it counts, she's no different than you or I. She has confidence because her upbringing and training gave her the ability for confidence. And one more thing: we've all trained for this possibility and we are professionals. Put your self-doubts where they belong, or better yet, get rid of them! I know you can do this!"  


The door chime sounded. "Enter" said Savion. He was still getting used to the whole concept. T'Val came in, in her stark white Engineering suit in sharp contrast to the Class A uniforms Savion and Kitane wore.  
  
"Are you well, Kerov-ahm?" she asked as she watched him pace.  
  
"A case of first command jitters that seems to be getting out of control." offered Kitane. "Maybe you would have better luck calming him down than I." He rose from his seat. "Should I leave you for a bit?"  
  
"Yes." said T'Val. "No." said Savion; then. "Yes. Just for a bit."  
  
Kitane chuckled and as he passed T'Val, he murmured "Perhaps you can get him to focus." Continuing to the doors, he said "I'll be outside for a bit. Let me know when you're ready." The doors closed behind Kitane and Savion paced while T'Val watched.  
  
"Kerov-ahm, enough." She moved to intercept him and stopped him, facing him. One gloved hand was on his shoulder, the other on his chest – he had no choice but to stop.  
  
"I'm just so damned nervous!" He said. He didn't get to say anything else as T'Val moved in closer to him, and gave him a kiss that stopped him from thinking about anything else. He wasn't sure how long it lasted; her kisses always seemed to stop time for him. It drew him right out of his self-doubt and when she broke it, he was almost breathless. "Wow.. uh, just wow." If she meant to distract him; pull him out of his self doubt – it worked.  
  
She gave him a small smile and her blue eyes locked his own eyes to her. "You will do fine, t'hy'la; I know you can do this. I will tend to Main Engineering, Ensign Kitane will be on the Bridge Engineering console. We all agreed to this. Use the abilities I know you have. We also need to be in our places, this launch is being watched by the Admiral."  
  
Savion nodded. Of course, the Admiral would be very interested in watching this, even if he couldn't be here himself – one thing he knew to do very well was how to delegate. The Admiral didn't choose anyone he couldn't trust to do the job. "All right. I'll be okay now – thanks." He smiled back at her, brought one hand up to her face and ran a finger down her cheek. "You know me far too well, don't you? I'm not complaining, but I don't know you as well I should." They continued to hold their close position for several more heartbeats. T'Val's eyes were drawing him in again. She suddenly looked down. "You only need the courage to ask." She said. Looking back up to him again, she continued "You will not find me unwilling." She then dropped her hands and stepped away, her face returning to it's usual impassive look. [She is so beautiful.] He thought. [What you do to me...] He took a deep breath, tugged at his jacket at the back to straighten it. He took the PADD from the table, and tucked it under one arm.  
  
"Let's do this, then." he said and as they exited the Lounge, Kitane stood from the small couch he was on. He nodded at T'Val, noting Savion's calm state. "Good work, sister." and winked at her. T'Val for her part, merely tilted her head and raised an eyebrow quizzically. The lift took only seconds to open its doors on the Bridge. As he stepped out of the lift, a voice somewhere said "Captain on the Bridge!" and everyone turned to face him. It was an old tradition, even though he did not hold the rank personally – for this trip – he WAS the Captain. "Thank you, as you were." Savion said. He stepped over to the centre seat – empty and inviting – and waiting for him, in this moment. He stepped up on the dais it was set on, and taking hold on one chair arm, swung it over to face him. With only a slight hesitation, he turned and sat in the chair, putting both of his arms on the chair arms. He turned to face his friends. Kitane could barely contain himself and T'Val – while impassive looking, he knew she was pleased to see him there. "Ship status?" He asked, turning his head to the helm.  
  
"Ship systems are reporting ready. Main gangway arms ready to retract, standing by on RCS thrusters."  
  
"Very good." he turned back to his friends again. "Lieutenant, Ensign, stations please."  
  
Kitane moved immediately to the Engineering console and took its seat. T'Val turned and entered the turbolift and turned to face Savion again. As the doors closed, he saw she had a small smile on her lips, which by the time she got to Main Engineering, he knew would be gone as she would be all business. He swung the chair towards the helm again. "Helm, get set to depart Dock. Communications, report ready to depart status to dock control."  
  
"Aye sir" came from the Helm and Communications.  
  
In another minute, Communications reported again.  
  
"Sir, Lieutenant Commander Hansen for you."  
  
"Put it onscreen." Commander Hansen's larger-than-life face appeared on the main viewscreen. "Bonaventure, we are ready to transfer you to onboard power."  
  
"Engineering, switch to onboard power." He waited a moment and T'Val's voice came over the comm: "We are now on shipboard power." Kitane glanced briefly at Savion and nodded, giving him a quick thumb-up gesture. Savion looked up to Hansen and smiled. "Dock control, we are ready for you to disconnect umbilicals and retract all gangways."  
  
Kitane quickly reported "We are showing all dock connections are retracting."  
  
"Helm, retract all moorings, station-keeping on the thrusters."  
  
"Aye sir. Moorings retracting, on station-keeping."  
  
He swung around to the viewscreen again. "Commander Hansen, Bonaventure reports ready to depart. My thanks to you and your crew for a job well-done."  
  
"Thank you Lieutenant." Hansen replied. "It was good to work with you. Good luck and Godspeed!"  
  
That was his cue. "Helm, thrusters forward. Main screen forward view. Take us out."  
  
The new Bonaventure hesitated for the briefest moment, but then began to move forward, slowly clearing the dock space she occupied for far too long.  
  
"Helm, take us out on pre-programmed departure from the dockyard."  
  
"Aye sir. Clearing dockyard in 64 seconds."  
  
"Thank you. Navigation, is our course set for Earth?"  
  
"Aye sir. Course set for Earth."  
  
Savion pressed a button on one arm. "Engineering, report status of drive systems."  
  
"Impulse drive at your discretion, Lieutenant." T'Val's voice came over the comm. She was playing this to the hilt. "Recommend no more than one-half impulse. Warp drive nominally available but do not recommend use at this time."  
  
"Thank you, Mr. T'Val. Understood." he pressed the button again, cutting contact.  
  
He watched both the viewscreen and the course plotter in front of him. How very handy.. the few times he'd allowed himself a few moments in the centre seat was in dock, while the ship was undergoing work. The course plotter in those cases were never active and he was unable to appreciate the information it was capable of giving him.  
  
"Clearing Dockyards Captai... I mean, Lieutenant." He had to smile at that. The Planitia crew on the helm and nav stations were getting as caught up in this moment as he was feeling. "One-quarter impulse until we clear Mars orbit and then one-half impulse."  
  
"Aye, sir. One quarter impulse. On course for Earth... now."  
  
Impulse engines glowing, the Bonaventure lept forward, eager to prove herself.  
  
2 HOURS FROM MARS  
  
"Lieutenant, I have an incoming message from Admiral VanHorne. It's private, sir."  
  
"I see. I'll take it at the Ready Room."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
Savion got up from the chair. He noted that Kitane was still studying the Engineering console intently. Yes, it was time and Savion smiled. "Mr. Kitane."  
  
Kitane jumped slightly. "Yes, sir?"  
  
“I have an important message to take - you have the con."  
  
"Uh, yes sir." Kitane looked genuinely surprised. As he stood from the Engineering console, he switched it automatic. Savion waited until Kitane gingerly approached the chair. "Go ahead" Savion urged with a smile. "It won't bite."  
  
With a look of "I'll return this favour" to Savion, Kitane sat carefully in the seat. He leaned back a bit, turned slightly from side to side and then leaned forward to study the course plot. Savion was still smiling as he made for the Captain's Ready Room and the waiting message from the Admiral.  
  
Kitane felt all the power inherent of the Captain's Chair. The feeling of total control, having everyone around you at your beck and call – an Engineering Ensign rarely got this kind of opportunity and despite his initial reaction to Kerovan, he was actually grateful for the opportunity to actually feel what it was like. After a casual inspection of the various stations and their crew, he turned to face the front.  
  
"Ship ETA to Spacedock, please."  
  
"Aye sir. We are on course for Earth at half-impulse. ETA to Earth..." the helmsman checked the plotter "... is just under 6 hours, current speed."  
  
"Ship status?"  
  
"All systems reporting either fully operable or on standby. Impulse power stable, no warp drive expected. Navigational deflectors only, life support at 100%."  
  
"Thank you. Carry on." Kitane took and read the various updates handed to him by an ongoing stream of Yeomen. It was an hour before Savion returned to the Bridge. Kitane raised an eyebrow of his own. That was a rather long call, unless he decided to be "discreet" with T'Val again... but no. Savion's expression did not indicate that he had indulged in any such activity. Kitane rose from the chair. "Sir, if you are ready?"  
  
"Yes, thank you, Mr. Kitane." Savion took the centre seat again and Kitane was about to return to the Engineering console. "Just a moment, old friend." Savion's voice was suddenly it's familiar tone. "Remain a few minutes. What's your opinion of the ship's readiness?"  
  
"It's....? Um, I think she's ready, brother. The systems have all been tested, except for the warp drive which was only under simulation."  
  
"That's what I told the Admiral." Savion looked at Kitane. "I spent 20 minutes talking to the Admiral and then another half hour in Engineering, inspecting the drive systems and asking T'Val the same question. She said the same thing." Savion put an elbow on the chair's arm and his hand under his chin. "Add to the fact that the three of us haven't had the leave we were supposed to get, either. How long do you estimate that the ship could be made ready for a mission?"  
  
"Two weeks for full load conditions plus at least a week for shakedown trials."  
  
Savion nodded in agreement. He leaned a little to Kitane. "This is where we part in agreement with the Admiral. There's a situation brewing for an emergency aid relief mission - the details are still classified. The Admiral wants the ship fully loaded in 4 days with only 3 days shakedown. Maybe less."  
  
"But.... that's crazy!" Kitane said. "Well, not crazy. Unrealistic, more like it."  
  
"Realistic or not, the Admiral wants the ship ready for deployment in one week after we reach Spacedock. Have you had your leave, yet?" Kitane shook his head. "No, after the debriefing, we were put into our qualifications pretty fast."  


"Also mentioned to the Admiral, old friend. Add to the fact that I stressed to him that I have no choice but to take medical leave, I won't have much time to rest and recover and still be declared fit for duty if I want to return to this ship. I took the stimulants for those 16-hour days for those first four days, you and T'Val didn't when you arrived for the last four days, so you are both better off in that regard."  
  
"Now, add to the fact that the three of us are currently the only qualified Engineers onboard, this puts us in a bit of a difficult situation. I think Doctor Mender will have a few words to say about our lack of leave once he gets wind of that detail." Savion sat back in the chair, and gave Kitane a humourless smile. "We get the milk run back to Spacedock, but this seat doesn't feel quite as comfortable as it did a few hours ago. Imagine what the Captain must feel – I think I have a taste of that now."  
  
"I only hope it doesn't get worse before it gets better."  



	29. ACT TWO Part 9

SPACEDOCK: Earth Orbit Sector 001  
  
"Sir, Spacedock is hailing us."  
  
"On audio – I'll take it here."  
  
"Aye sir. On audio."  
  
"USS Bonaventure, this is Spacedock Control."  
  
"Spacedock Control, this is the USS Bonaventure." Savion replied. "Ready for docking manoeuvres. Is Admiral VanHorne ready?"  
  
"Aye, Bonaventure, he is. Stand by for automatic docking control." The Bridge lights changed colour from normal "day" lighting to a blue tone. "We have control, Bonaventure. Enjoy the ride and welcome home."  
  
"Control confirmed, Spacedock. And thank you – it's good to be home."  
  
The Bonaventure, now under the guidance of Approach Control, arced gracefully to one of the large Space Doors. This was the first time Savion had been part of docking from this vantage point. He couldn't help but think of the last time the Bonaventure came home – this ship's predecessor – battered, wrecked and barely under her own power – but home she did come. This is what then-Captain VanHorne and the rest of the Bridge crew saw: The large open doors, welcoming a returning ship.  
  
The Bonaventure entered the doors and ship traffic within the station seemed to have halted, waiting to see the latest ship to bear the name Bonaventure. She was carefully guided towards the central core and her docking berth, where numerous smaller tenders waited to lock to and provision the ship. The Bonaventure slowed, moving towards one berth. Savion could see the large observation window – so tiny in this view – where Admiral VanHorne and his new Command Crew waited to see this ship for the first time. Savion had to smile how many would be surprised by this choice? Knowing the Admiral's occasional penchant for drama – he would keep the crew distracted until the last possible moment until the ship appeared in the observation port, large as life and unlike the last time – fully operable and ready to do the job for which she was built. The new crew wouldn't be able to see the top of the saucer, with her name proudly spelled out and her hull number – now fully complete – blazoned there.  
  
Instead, they would see the number on the lower front of the saucer, clear to all at this angle. USS Bonaventure NCC-1745-A: one of the last three of the new-build Constitution Refits, with all the new improvements and technologies that the old Bonaventure didn't have.  
  
"Bonaventure, you are now docked. Power switching to external connections."  
  
"Helm, set all automatic moorings."  
  
"Aye, sir, moorings set."  
  
Savion hit the comm button again. "Confirmed, Spacedock." He switched to another channel, shipwide this time: "All hands: put all stations on standby mode and make ready to disembark immediately. My thanks to you all. Engineering: Lieutenant T'Val, please report to the main gangway immediately."  
  
T'Val's voice came back over the comm: "Aye sir. On my way."  
  
Savion thumbed another switch on the chair. "Admiral VanHorne, the Bonaventure is ready for you, sir." He thumbed it off, not waiting for the Admiral's reply. "Mr. Kitane, please accompany me to the main gangway to welcome the Admiral aboard." Kitane nodded and got up from his station. Both men entered the turbolift with a half-dozen Utopia Planitia transfer crew. The three of them would be ready to greet the Admiral shortly.  



	30. ACT TWO part 10

Starfleet Cold Weather Training and Survival Facility

Alsboro Bay, Antarctica

Stardate: -24497.17

 

  


 “There were woollen socks, Lieutenant Stahl.  They were a gift from my mother before I came here to this forsaken ice cube!”

  


             Luther Stahl flinched as felt spittle from the three hundred pound climatologist spray over his face.   He clinched his fists angrily as he held his smile while the obese civilian stared at him with both indignation and loss over his missing socks. 

  


             “I will get on that right away, Mr. Martin,” Luther said in a dull sounding voice.  “If you can file a…”

             “That is _Doctor_ Martin,” the climatologist interrupted.   His cheeks wiggled angrily as he spoke.   “I will file whatever forms that you like once you bring my property back to me and confirmation that the culprit has been apprehended and duly processed by a magistrate!  I don’t know what kind of outfit that Starfleet runs here, but I will be filing a complaint about your performance, Lieutenant!”

  


             The other civilians in the common room shook their heads and muttered their approval to each other.   Luther sucked in a breath and he let it out carefully.   “I’m on it, Dr. Martin.  Thank you.” 

  


             The climatologist gave a victorious grin while Luther spun on his right boot heel and he marched out of the room.  As he strode down the corridor, he heard the sound of laughter followed by the climatologist’s voice.  

  


             “I guess I showed him who has the upper hand around here!” 

  


             Luther began to count to ten under his breath, an old technique that a Starfleet psychologist had taught him.   He reached the doubled doors at the end of the corridor, and grabbing his coat from a hook among other coats and extreme winter gear, he pulled it on.   It was a balmy -4 degrees Celsius outside and with only a short walk to the security shed that was Luther’s private enclave, he did not need the additional gloves or boots.

  


             He flung open the door outside and he started to march down the path toward the shed.   The remnants of the sunny morning were beginning to vanish over the encampment that was the Starfleet Cold Weather Training and Survival Facility in Alsboro Bay, Antarctica.  Heavy clouds hung over the bay and from their steel grey colour, Luther knew that snow was coming.  The temperatures were still rising just enough for snow to come and that was a bad omen in this part of Earth.  Snow storms could last for days.

  


             With the wind blowing and the civilians gathered in the main training center to watch another demonstration on survival techniques, Luther was free to rant and rave all that he wished. 

  


             “Socks!” Luther cursed.   “Sure, Fatso!  I’ll get a whole security team on it right away!  I’ll even a build a brig to hold the criminal pending the arrival of a JAG officer!”

  


             His angry words found no solace in the driving wind.  Cursing angrily, Luther walked up the short steps to the security shack.   He opened the door and upon entering the shack, he took of his coat.   The only thing on his mind that mattered right now was a cup of coffee and getting back to the holonovel that had been interrupted before the frantic call had come in from Dr. Martin. 

 

            “Fat, bloated pig,” Luther muttered.  “I bet he still lives with his mother, too!  Who knits socks for people this day and age?” 

  


             Stomping his boots, and pulling the flap open of his Starfleet tunic so he could get comfortable, Luther turned to head toward the coffee pot in the small kitchen area of his shed.  He stopped and noticed something unusual.  It was so unusual that he thought he was hallucinating. 

  


             A Caitian wearing a neatly pressed uniform with the rank of a Lieutenant Commander was seated at the tiny table by the kitchen area.   He was a tall, hulking figure with tan and white fur and amber colored eyes.  He was seated with his back perfectly straight and both of his paws resting on the edge of the table.  Only his tail moved and it did so in a slow, almost menacing manner.  

  


             “Luther Hunt?” the Caitian asked.  The voice was a rumble, deep and guttural. 

  


             Luther blinked and he opened his mouth.  The words were slow to come.  “Uh..yeah…who are..?”

  


             “Lieutenant Commander K’rilish,” the Caitian responded.   “I landed five minutes ago.  Why didn’t you acknowledge my arrival?”

  


             There was no security grid on the outpost.  With all of the civilians gathered in the common room at the main station, no one would have gotten the call.   Luther looked at the kitchen counter where he had left his communicator.  He had learned a long time ago not to carry it on him at all times, not when the civilians believed he was a personal servant and at their beck and call at all hours of the day.  

  


             “There was an urgent matter,” Luther explained. 

  


             The Caitian, K’rilish, tilted his head tone side as if he had just been told a joke that he did not find amusing.  “Right,” he said.   “I smell coffee.  Would you mind if I help myself?”

  


             Eager to avoid discussing The  Case of The Missing Socks, Luther shook his head and he answered quickly.  “Help yourself.   Do you mind if I ask why you are here?”

  


             K’rilish stood up and he turned toward the counter.   “I’m here to see if you want a job,” he said.

  


            “As you can see, I already got a job,” Luther said.  It was attempt at a joke and he gave a smile.

  


             K’rilish did not return with a smile or chuckle.  He lifted the coffee pot and he sniffed the contents.  Deciding that it was safe to proceed, he grabbed a clean cup and filled it.  

  


             “Yes, you have a job,” K’rilish answered.   He looked at Luther.  “What are your exact duties again?”

  


             “This is Starfleet science station designed to prepare civilian, government and Starfleet personnel for cold climates on other worlds,” Luther said defensively.   “I am here to ensure their protection and the security of the installation.”

  


             “By yourself,” K’rilish added.

  


             Luther looked at K’rilish as he sipped his coffee.   “I did not ask for this assignment,” he said.  “What kind of job are you offering, Commander?”

  


             K’rilish reached into one of the pockets of the excursion jacket and he produced a PADD.   “Luther Jackson Stahl,” he said.  “Aged twenty seven Earth standard years.  Born 2272 in Bonn, Germany.  Your father was Oskar Stahl, a Starfleet rear admiral, and your mother Luscia Hunt Stahl, a school teacher.   You had good grades in school, graduated cum laude from high school, and entered Starfleet without recommendation by your father which both he, and you, found as a mark of pride.   You….”

  


             “I know the record,” Luther called out.  “There’s no need to..”

  


             K’rilish cut Luther off by raising his voice.  “YOU did well in Starfleet Academy. Top marks in hand to hand combat, weapons training, law, and with glowing remarks in zero gravity tactical assault where you placed at the top of your class. Upon graduation, you were given the choice of your posting and you selected Starbase 105 because it was your desire to seek installation or Starbase rather than a starship.

  


             “During your four years there, you saved several civilians from an explosion on the promenade deck that destroyed the environment system, successfully put down a miner’s revolt from a neighbouring system where the Federation personnel were helping negotiate a strike, and discovered a Romulan saboteur all which resulted in your promotion to lieutenant.

  


             “And then you screwed up.”

  


             The words hung in the air intentionally.  Luther shook his head.   “It wasn’t my fault,” he said.

  


             K’rilish held up the PADD for Luther to see.  “Was it?  That doesn’t look like the case from what I have read.”

  


             “Because that is a bullshit lie!” Luther snapped.  He pointed his finger at the PADD.  “You shouldn’t believe that!”

  


             K’rilish perked his ears as if he were surprised.  “Then tell me what happened,” he said. 

  


             “Tell me why you are here first,” Luther demanded. 

  


             K’rilish stood up from the table and he walked over to the sink where poured out of the coffee.  Dumping the empty cup into the disposal, he turned toward the door. 

  


             “Where you are going?” Luther asked.

  


             “I’m leaving,” K’rilish said.  “I’m here to get answers from you, and not to explain myself.”

  


             “Wait a sec,” Luther said.  He followed after K’rilish. 

  


             The Caitian did not say anything.  He opened the door and a blast of Antarctic air filled the room.   Feeling the pit of his stomach sink against the chill air, Luther yelled out.  “I PUNCHED AN ADMIRAL!”

  


             For a few seconds, K’rilish stood at the door way as if he were contemplating leaving.  Whatever he decided, it did not seem please him.  He slammed the door shut and he gave Luther a look that told him that there would be no second chances.  What he said next confirmed that.  “I don’t play games,” he said.  

  


             “I’ve been here two years,” Luther replied.  He tried not to sound desperate.  “My people skills are not what they used to be.”

  


             “Commander,” K’rilish growled. 

  


             “Yes, uh, Commander,” Luther answered.  “Please sit.  I can explain.”

  


             K’rilish began to remove his coat.  “You can talk while you make a fresh pot of coffee.  That other stuff was terrible.” 

  


             Luther hurried towards the coffee maker.  “Sorry.  Two years here, and you’d think I would have figured out how to make coffee the old fashioned way.”

  


             “You said that you punched an admiral. Why?” 

  


             It was plainly obvious that K’rilish was not one into small talk, and neither was he like some of the Caitian that Luther had met in the past.  There was no smiling, idle chat, or even a friendly pat of the arm that most Caitian were noted to do.  He sat rigidly at the table, his tail moving from side as if it had a mind of its own while Luther set to making a fresh pot of coffee.

  


             “I’m going be honest with you, Commander,” he began.  “I’m not going to apologize for what I did.   Two good people died as a result of what Admiral Tanbridge did and I would be dishonouring their names if I didn’t stand up for them.”

  


             “The record says that you and Admiral Tanbridge got into a heated argument and it was you who struck him,” K’rilish said.  “The argument was over his orders to transfer a shape-shifter that he claims you failed to secure and which lead to the death of two security officers when it tried to escape.  It was you, not he, who made the mistake.”

  


             “That’s crap!”

  


             “Do you deny striking Admiral Tanbridge?” K’rilish asked.

  


             “I did hit the Admiral,” Luther said, “but it was because he did not listen to me when I told him that moving the shape-shifter was ill advised.  I recommended a portable security cell, but Admiral Tanbridge did not want anything to do with it.   He even ignored the advice of the base commander who agreed with me.”

  


             “Yet the base commander is not here,” K’rilish said with a note of amusement in his voice. 

  


             “The base commander was not present during the…uh…incident,” Luther said.  “After the incident happened and the shape-shifter was killed, I was more than happy to let the official investigation from Starfleet prove the facts for what they were.  When Admiral Tanbridge suggested that I alter my report that included my recommendation for the portable security cell, I refused.  He became agitated and….”

  


             “You hit him,” K’rilish said as he finished the sentence. 

  


             “Yes,” Luther answered.   “I was not going to tarnish my name or my security officers so some fat-assed Admiral who never commanded a starship keep his career record squeaky clean so he could earn another pip.”

  


             K’rilish picked up his PADD and he tapped the screen.   “There was an investigation, and your official reports were released which led a formal reprimand of the Admiral, but not his forced retirement.   That left you open for retribution.”

  


             Luther finished preparing the coffee and he leaned against the counter top.   “Come on, Commander, we all know that Starfleet frowns heavily on any form of retribution by a high ranking officer against a lower ranking member.   We’re a big happy family!”

  


             “Despite your reservations about your banishment here, Starfleet does take a very dim view on officers punching out admirals when something doesn’t go their way,” K’rilish said.  His voice took on a gruffer tone.   “Had you kept your temper under control, and reported Admiral Tanbridge’s attempt to cover up your report to the authorities, you most likely would not be here.”

  


                        Luther gave a derisive smile.  “ _Likely_ ,” he said. 

  


                        K’rilish did not say anything.   The smell of coffee filled the shed, and taking a cup from the counter top, Luther filled it.  He placed it on the table next to K’rilish.   He took an empty chair and he looked at the Caitian.

  


             “I’m going to go out on a limb.  You’re here looking to recruit me for a position.  I don’t know where, but I’m going to guess it is a heck of a lot better, and warmer, than this place.   You already got me sold.”

  


             “I didn’t ask you yet,” K’rilish replied.   “What makes you think I haven’t decided you aren’t worth my time?”

  


             “Because you didn’t leave,” Luther responded.  “Somehow, I get the feeling you are not the type for saying goodbyes, Commander.” 

  


             K’rilish gave a loud grunt that Luther could only guess was made out of amusement or annoyance.  K’rilish picked up the cup of coffee and he took a sip while Luther watched with a passive expression on his face.  Inside, however, he was nothing but a storm of nerves.  

  


             “This coffee is still crap,” K’rilish answered.  He put cup the down and he glared at Luther.  “I am looking for an assistant security and tactical officer for the newly commissioned USS Bonaventure.”

  


             Luther slapped his hand on the edge of the table.  “I knew it!” he said out loud.

  


             “Shut up, and let me finish!” K’rilish snapped.

  


             “Sorry!” Luther answered.  He tried not to smile. 

  


             “The Bonaventure is Admiral Van Horne’s flag ship.  Every admiral, as you know, is granted the right of a flag ship.   He has certain privileges with both Starfleet Command and the higher echelons of the Federation.   I’ve been tasked to put together the Bonaventure’s security team as I see fit.   I want the best there is, but I don’t want drones that obey orders mindlessly.  I want individuals that can think and know what is best for their personnel and the ship.   I don’t tolerate kiss asses, and I don’t abide save asses.  Such individuals get in the way.”

  


             “You won’t get that from me,” Luther responded.  “I mean…you won’t have a problem with me, Sir.”

  


             “Your record up to your incident with Admiral Tanbridge is the only reason I am here,” K’rilish warned.  He leaned forward and he narrowed his eyes at Luther who shuddered at the look that he gave.   “You get no chances other than the one that you get today.   If you fail to keep that temper in check, you are finished, Lieutenant Stahl.  You will be sorely mistaken if you make the stupid mistake of striking Admiral Van Horne.   Should you live, for any reason, _I_ will finish you off.” 

  


             The threat was clear, and Luther had no doubt of its intention.  “I will not let the Bonaventure down,” he said in a slow and firm voice. 

  


             K’rilish stood up and he grabbed his coat.   “I know that you won’t.   I have a shuttle arriving within the hour to pick you up.   I want a full outline for the Bonaventure’s security department ready by eighteen hundred hours along with a readiness report and duty schedule.”

  


             Luther felt his stomach tighten.   He looked at K’rilish as if he were joking.  “You got to be kidding?   I need a few days to get things in order here and…”

  


             “Be on the shuttle in one hour, or stay here,” K’rilish growled.  He walked over to the door and he opened it.   It had begun snowing outside and a blizzard of snow blew through the doorway.  He looked at Luther.  “I have other people to meet.  I’m sure they will be willing to take the position that I have offered you.” 

  


             Before Luther could answer, K’rilish vanished through the doorway into the white maelstrom beyond.   Luther went to the doorway but he saw only the faint outline of K’rilish’s as he disappeared.   

  


             “I’ll be on that shuttle,” Luther said to himself.  “You can count on it.”

           

 

___ 

Luther Stahl

Assistant Security and Tactical Officer

USS Bonaventure-A

  



	31. ACT TWO part 11

**StarBase 1**

**Promenade**

**George and Gracie Memorial Park**

**____________________________**

 

"You ...," said Cassandra in a musical voice. "... do not look happy." 

 

"Does it show?" he asked and passed her his PADD. Her green eyes scanned the newsfeed then suddenly narrowed to a burning intensity. 

 

"That .... SON OF A! ... " 

 

He squeezed her hand. 

 

"Yeah, already said that!" 

 

"But ... it's all lies!" 

 

She waved the PADD angrily. 

 

"Wolfe's making it -- it sound like Captain Drask and I were ... " 

 

She lowered her head and voice at the same time. 

 

"... Involved," she whispered. 

 

"If it makes you feel any better it's a very veiled inference, one buried under piles of fact and anonymous statements," added the Titan. 

 

"Which are nearly all wrong!" she shook her head. "Oh God ... I can't breath!" She held her head in her hands." 

 

Lifting her chin with a finger he gazed into her eyes. 

 

"It doesn't matter. Despite all his investigating he didn't learn about one thing," he said with a boyish grin. She returned his smile. 

 

"Us," she said. She took his hand in hers again. "So ... where do we stand?" 

 

The new Captain waited for a Vulcan couple to walk by followed by a Tellarite jogger. 

 

"You mean what happens to us after our leave is over?" he asked in return. She nodded. 

 

"Yes. Both of us will get new postings. Your duty is to your crew and a new ship for them." 

 

"And you're awaiting word on your transfer request." his troubled expression returned. "Cassandra ... I don't want this to end, but ... " 

 

He stopped and stared into the distance. 

 

"Jexe?" she asked as she recognized his look. He was using his enhanced senses. 

 

"Something's going on," he announced and stood. "Some kind of commotion and ... " He glanced back to her. "Admiral VanHorne and Rachel are involved." 

 

She rose and came to his side.

 

"We better hurry." 

 

Locking hands the couple rushed deeper into the park where already the sounds of a commotion reached them before the back sides of a gathering crowd. Jexe shouldered his way through, thankful his uniform jacket was acknowledged and respected. 

 

"It's some kind of child ... " announced a voice in the crowd. 

 

"... station security's been called," drifted other, thick with a Denobulan accent.

 

"Klingon? ... " 

 

" ... those brutes!" 

 

" ... heard they're diseased!" 

 

"Excuse us ... please, let us through!" 

 

Jexe and Cass pushed through the last throng of the gathering only to spot the Admiral and Rachel. The two were ringed by a small squad of station security. The Titan raised his hand to shout -- too late. He felt the sub-space dimple before a dazzling corona of light and sound enveloped the Admiral and his fiancée. Within moments they were gone, but not before Jexe spotted something else. Pressed behind Rachel's legs was a child. 

 

*A Klingon child,* he thought to himself. 

 

"Jexe, what's happened?" asked Cass, undisguised concern high in her voice. He gave her hand another reassuring squeeze. 

 

"Wait for it ... " he said with playfully with an upheld finger. Her brow furrowed. "Wait for it ... " 

 

**CHIRP! CHIRR-CHIRR-CHIRP!**

 

His sly grin pulled a notch longer as he flicked out his communicator. 

 

"Yes Admiral," he said confidently. Cass laughed, crossed her arms under her chest and mouthed a single phrase - show off. 

 

[Sorry to bother you, old friend,] said VanHorne's voice over tiny speakers. "But a situation's come up that requires our expertise. Send me your coordinates and I'll beam you over.]

 

"Understood, sir. Give me a moment and I'll be ready." 

 

[I await you at your leisure. VanHorne out.]

 

Jexe hooked his communicator back to his belt and squared himself to Cassandra. 

 

"Duty calls," he said in a plaintive voice.

 

"I gathered." 

 

He took both her hands in his grateful the crowd was dispersing. 

 

"Cass ... " his voice wavered. She shook her head. 

 

"Jexe, I -- I understand. These past three weeks have been great, and I understand you're hesitant to get closer and ... " 

 

"No! No, it's not that. Cass ..." He looked down at his feet and and air around him churned with a vaporous blur. "You're amazing. You've made me ... I mean ... I -- I couldn't -- " 

 

She kissed him. Rising on her toes, cupping his face she kissed him openly. It was soft and gentle and she could feel the energy around him tingle the hairs on the nape of her neck, the tips of her fingers, and the empty spaces between the beats of her heart. His fingers grazed her hips and she lowered back to the ground. 

 

"Holy ... " he pronounced, his eyes closed with a wistful smile.

 

"Think I'd let you off without a little memento?" she said.

 

He opened his eyes.

 

"You call that little?" 

 

It was her turn to beam a cunning grin.

 

"I call that the tip of the iceberg. This conversation if far from over, Captain." 

 

"Aye that. I'm _very_ interested on hearing more on the subject," said the Titan. 

 

"Better be. It's a small galaxy, I expect you'll find me." 

 

He laughed until the quiet din of the park filled the silence.

 

"Until then," he said. Suddenly, his expression changed. 

 

"Damn -- forgot. We're suppose to meet Owen and Renn at the 603 Club." 

 

"Go," she said with a wave of her hand. "I'll explain your absence." 

 

He quirked a brow. 

 

"You're okay with that? Meeting my best friends for the first time without me?"

 

"Uh-huh. What better way to lean more about ...  you," she said. Her devious smile was more than alluring. He paled.

 

"Oh God ... I'm a dead man." 

 

"No ... just mine." 

 

Her smile was fragile, as was his, and their lingering look spoke words they could not say. 

 

"I -- I do have to go," said the Titan reluctantly. Cass nodded and took a single step back.

 

"I know. Go. Save the galaxy. I'll be here." 

 

With a tight frown he nodded and flicked out his communicator. Transmitting his coordinates he spoke into the device. 

 

"Ready, Admiral. One to beam up." 

 

The corona of light returned and the Titan was gone.  

 


	32. ACT TWO part 12

**The 603 Club**

**StarBase 1**

 

**Round 1**

 

"You know, there's like zero booze in there ... " began Owen. 

 

The 603 club was a cozy tavern high on wooden decor, soft jazz music and over a hundred portraits of Starfleet Captains going back to the NX Class. Owen join Renn at the bar rail. Despite the hour it was quiet inside. Flames crackled in an open fireplace, one wide enough for a Nausicaan's grave. 

 

"... Despite it being top shelf synthehol."

 

The Bolian laughed and signalled to the bartender. 

 

"My friend here will have another of your finest faux Kentucky bourbon. Two fingers, no ice." 

 

"Whoa -- what are we drinking to?" asked Owen. Out of uniform he unbutton his suede jacket and enjoyed the feel of the Caitian leather stool under him. Renn waited until the bartender, a Rhaandarite male, poured their drinks and departed. Passing a glass to Owen he lifted his own in a toast. 

 

"To Owen ... the Best Man at my wedding!" 

 

" ... ? Are you serious? -- but what about your brother?" 

 

Renn shook his head. 

 

"Vall can't make it. Called away on a humanitarian mission somewhere along the Klingon border." 

 

"Damn. Sorry, Renn, I know you two are close." 

 

"We are, but if one family member can't make it ... I'd like my other brother to." 

 

Owen was genuinely touched. 

 

"So ... will you?" asked one of his oldest friends. 

 

Owen clicked his glass against Renn's. 

 

"Yes, I'd be honoured." 

 

The Bolian flashed his winning smile.

 

"To the best man!" 

 

"The best man," echoed Owen and together the two downed their shots in one pull. Owen's fist quivered. Renn pounded the bar top. 

 

"Bartender, another!" 

 

Owen gave his friend a guarded look. Renn hooked his chin towards the holo-mirror behind the bar and the words hovering in space, 

 

- _Welcome crew of the USS Bonaventure and Phobos! Drinks are on the house!-_  

 

"A perk from Admiral VanHorne," explained the Bolian off Owen's questioning stare. "Speaking of ... when Mandy and I were making our wedding plans, We had intended to ask him to officiate the ceremony, like he did for you and P'Ree. But ... since Jexe is now Captain ... do you think he'd -- " 

 

"Oh my God ... he would! He'd do it!"

 

The two Science Officers turned to the voice behind them. It belonged to a stunning redhead with piercing green eyes. 

 

"Sorry --" she quickly offered. "Jexe said it'd be easy to find you two. I'm Ensign Cassandra Patterson ... " 

 

"Jexe's girlfriend!" finished Owen coming to his feet. Shaking her hand he quickly introduced her to Renn and offered her a seat between them. 

 

"Another drink?" asked the bartender who appear out of nowhere. 

 

"Absolutely," said Owen. 

 

"Oh, I shouldn't ... " began Cass, but the two men would have none of it. Within moments all three had shot glasses in their hands. 

 

"To Jexe!" they cheered. Glasses clinked. Shots pounded.

**____________________________**

 

**Round 2**

 

"So VanHorne just called him away after beaming off with a ... a Klingon child?" asked Owen. 

 

Cass swished her nearly empty glass.

 

"That's what it looked like." 

 

"Maybe it's related to what Vall's doing. His last letter said something about incoming refugees," offered Renn. 

 

"I'd expect we'd be involved if only we had a ship," offered Owen. 

 

"Yeah." Renn pouted, looked down and folded his hands around his glass. Cass looked at both men. 

 

"Hey, come on ... we'll have none of that! Another round!" 

 

She signalled the bartender, a man named Xan for another go. With a look she made both men lift their refilled glasses. 

 

"To the Bonaventure!" 

 

"The Bonaventure!" 

 

Clink!

 

**____________________________**

 

 

**Round 3**

 

 

All three laughed long and deeply. 

 

"Jexe ... dancing?" asked Owen in an incredulous voice. 

 

"Uh-huh. He asked me out after that whole affair with Wolfe. We beamed down to Rio. Oh my God it was marveloussss," said Cass, her words beginning to slur. 

 

"Anyway," she smiled to herself and tossed her hair. "One night turned into a week before we came to Starbase 1." 

 

"Dammmmmn!" said the men in unison. "No way? Our Jexe?" asked Renn. 

 

"Uh-huh. I mean ... he'sss great. We're great!" she continued. "It'sss just ... every time I think we're getting close he ... he -- " 

 

"Seems to push you away?" said Owen. Cass nodded. The Science Officer looked over at Renn who returned his look of understanding. 

 

"Given what he's been through I can see why?"  replied the Bolian. 

 

"Been through?" asked Cass. She tried to sit up. 

 

"Maered." replied Renn. 

 

"And Lara," added Owen. 

 

"Um ... who?" asked Cass. 

 

"They were his past girlfriends."

 

"I don't understand," confessed the Engineer. It was Owen's turn to swivel his drink before he replied.

 

"Maered was once the Bonnie's CMO. She was killed ... murdered by a fellow officer, and traitor. A low life named Sullivan MacArthur III. Jexe blames himself though there was nothing he could have done. And Lara ... " 

 

The Science Officer down the last of his drink. 

 

"... Was my sister. She and Jexe used to go out before we served aboard the Bonnie. We met up with her on a mission to Andor a couple of years ago. She was killed by a serial killer. I took it pretty hard, but I don't think as bad as Jexe." 

 

Cass' hands covered her mouth. 

 

"Oh God ... I-I didn't know. Jexe never told me. Owen ... I'm so sorry." 

 

Getting off her stool she hugged the Science Officer. 

 

"Thank you," he said in a hushed voice. Renn leaned over and squeezed his shoulder. 

 

**CHIRP! CHIRR-CHIRR-CHIRP!**

 

Renn fished out his communicator. 

 

"It's Mandy. Got to take this." 

 

Hopping off his stool he wandered away out of earshot. Both Cass and Owen's glasses were refilled, and both took long pulls, winced and shivered.

 

"Ssssoo ... " began Cass. "You think that's the thing with Jexe. He'sss afraid I'll get hurt or sssomething?" 

 

"Can you blame 'im?" said Owen. "He'ssss not afraid of intimacy. He'sss afraid of 'urting you ... or worsssse." 

 

Cass was stunned into silence. She finished her drink. Xan placed another filled shot glass in front of her, then Owen.

 

"I'm ssss--orry, Cass." Owen willed himself to hold his own glass. "Don' hold this ah'ginssst him. I luv the big lug like a brotha, but when it comesss ta love he'ssss as ol' fashion sass ah ... " 

 

"Fossss ... ill?" suggested Cass. 

 

Owen sputtered out a long spitty laugh and slapped the table with the palm of his hand. 

 

"Ha! To fossss-illsss!" 

 

Raised glasses clinked. 

**____________________________**

 

 

**Round 4**

 

 

" _Oh, my Joanie, don't you know_

_That the stars are swinging slow,_

_And the seas are rolling easy_

_As they did so long ago?_

_If I had a thing to give you,_

_I would tell you one more time_

_That the world is always turning_

_Toward the morning ..._ "

 

Arms over shoulders Owen and Cass sang the old sailing song as one by one other patrons joined in. 

 

" _Oh, my Joanie…._

 

_When the darkness falls around you_

_And the Northwind comes to blow,_

_And you hear him call your name out_

_As he walks the brittle snow:_

_That old wind don't mean you trouble,_

_He don't care or even know,_

_He's just walking down the darkness_

_Toward the morning ..._ "

 

Cheers and hearty applause|! rang up across the tavern as glasses where held aloft. Owen refilled his and Cass' glasses from a bottle left by Xan. 

 

Clink!

**____________________________**

 

**Round 5**

 

 **"** No -- you are a-a-a-a gud husss ... band! You luv 'er, and Weeee --- " 

 

"Pah ... Reeee," corrected Owen in a drunken voice. Next to him Renn was slumped over on the bar blissfully passed out. Cass spit laughed at her mistake then nodded her head uncontrollably. 

 

"Right. Pah-Reee," she said with some effort. "An--an ... she's gonna know dis. Ssssshe'll come ah-round. You'll sssseeee." 

 

"Sssshe 'as tah! I'm sssso lost wid out 'er!" 

 

They both pounded the bar until Xan brought a new bottle, saw they were in no condition to pour and filled their glasses each. Owen sat up.

 

"Tah marrr -- age!" said the drunken Officer. Cass held her drinking hand steady with her other. 

 

"Marr -- age!" 

 

Clink!

**____________________________**

 

**Round 6**

 

"An ah wus s-s-s-soooo mean tah 'em!" Cass wiped her tears as Owen put a consoling arm around her. "Da tingssss ah sssaid. 'e dinhah deserve nun-a-it." 

 

Owen's head swivelled rapidly from side to side. 

 

"Naw-naw-naw ... issss naw too late. Tell 'em sssssooon." 

 

Cass lifted her head. 

 

"Ah will! Ah will. Asss sssssssoooon asss ah ssssseeee Ssssssavvv--veeee--ooon ... " 

 

"Ha! Sssssay dat three timesss 'ast!" shouted Owen. "Ssssoooon ... Ssssssav --eee--Ssssveee .... Ssssssav ... ah --- ah. Dammm...  can't 'ay it" 

 

Cass let out her own spit laugh. 

 

"Well, ah will. Ah sssay ssssoorrry fer bein' ssssooo mean, Ssssssavyy! Ah will!" slurred the redhead.

 

**CHIRP! CHIRR-CHIRR-CHIRP!**

 

Owen looked in Renn's direction. 

 

"Buddy ... " he whispered. 

 

**CHIRP! CHIRR-CHIRR-CHIRP!**

 

"Buddy?" he gently elbowed the passed out Bolian. "Buddy ... it'sssss fer ya." 

 

**CHIRP! CHIRR-CHIRR-CHIRP!**

 

Looking down at his jacket he suddenly snorted out long and hard. 

 

"HA! ... dat's mine!" 

 

Fumbling into his pocket he brought out his own communicator. 

 

"... 'Ello!" he said smartly. His brow furrowed before he turned his communicator upside right. " ... 'ello?" 

 

[Owen?] 

 

"JEXE! It's Jexe!" 

 

"Jexe com join usssss?" called Cass. 

 

[Owen ... are you all right?] asked the Titan.

 

"Oh yeh! Jusssst 'avein' a ball wid yer pretty girl, Cass. Come join usss." 

 

"Love to, but something's come up. I need you and Renn here ASAP." 

 

"Fer real?" 

 

"Aye that. Can you sober up?" 

 

"Yeh ... 'old on ... " 

 

Putting his communicator down on the bar he got off his stool, leaned his arms on his seat and lowered his head. He shivered once and was still. Returning to his seat he brought his communicator to his head.

 

"All right, I'm sober, but damn, Jexe. I'd spent the last hour building up one helluva buzz." 

 

"Sorry. I owe you one. Is Cass all right?" asked the Titan. Owen looked over at the Redheaded Engineer. 

 

"She's three sheets to the wind. You want her to ... " 

 

"No -- I'm sober now," added the Ensign. She scooted closer to Owen. 

 

[Listen Cass, let me apologize for anything Owen and Renn may have said.] 

 

Owen nudged the Communicator even closer to her. 

 

"Nonsense. My new drinking buddies have been nothing but gentlemen. But ... " 

 

A mischievous smile warmed her face. 

 

" ... if you want to make it up to me, ask me out as your date to the wedding ... the one you're officiating." 

 

"I -- wait -- what?" 

 

"Wish I were joking too. But ... " She moved her head closer to the Communicator. "I do want to talk ... to see you. I know you're busy, but can you make that happen?" 

 

A pause followed and Cass feared she'd pushed him too hard. 

 

[I will. And soon.]

 

She brightened. 

 

"Then I'll bid you a good night, Captain. You have wonderful friends and I'm glad I met them." 

 

She got off the stool. 

 

"Owen .. " 

 

And kissed the Science Officer gently on the cheek. 

 

"You and P'Ree will work out. You'll see. Tell Renn I said good night, and with luck I'll be at the wedding." 

 

Straightening her uniform she sketched a salute to Xan and headed for the door. 

 

"Jexe?" said Owen as he watched her leave.

 

[Yes?] 

 

"Like her. She's pretty cool." 

 

[That makes two of us. Give me your coordinates and I beam you both over.]

 

"Right." 

 

Throwing Renn's arm over his shoulder he lifted the Bolian to his feat and feed their location to his best friend. 

 

"wasss ... up?" slurred Renn in a sleepy voice. 

 

"Once more into the fray, buddy. Once more into the fray." 

 

In a cascade of light they were gone. 

 

**____________________________**

 

**Captain Jexe O'Dag**

**Commanding Officer**

 

**Lieutenant Owen Cross**

**Science Officer**

 

**Ensign Renn**

**Science Officer**

**Astrometrics**

 

**USS Bonaventure NCC-1745**

 

**Ensign Cassandra Patterson**

**Engineer**

 

**USS Phobos NCC 2786**

 


	33. ACT TWO part 13

Starbase 1 – Earth Orbit  
Main Docking Hub  
Berth 1  
  
Admiral VanHorne marched inside the travel pod, hastily followed by Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Rachel Osgoode, whom carried a large black duffel in one hand, and in the other held the long, tapered fingers of a very young Klingon girl whose abbreviated name had become simply; "Azette"  
  
Rachel found the French pronunciation of the otherwise abrasive Klingon name to be a happy compromise. As they set off into the interior of Spacedock, they could see the floating relief ships that would compose their small aid flotilla. The triple-nacelled, privately held Piedmont and the Hope Class USS Comfort.  
  
"I sympathize with the plight of the Klingons, but they certainly have their own fleet." Rachel said, her long legs readily apparent beneath the black, ochre striped skirt.  
  
"Our Fleet is much larger, Rachel."  
  
"And our area of covered space to protect much more vast. And may I remind the Admiral that our own ships do not devote their entire ratio to blowing things up."  
  
VanHorne watched as she tended to the girl, who was silent, obedient, yet viewed VanHorne with something bordering on awe and mistrust. He observed her casually, then nodded back to his lover, "They're military people. Just like you."  
  
Rachel stowed her things, and immediately provided Azette with a small snack-ration and a data PADD that was set to zoo animals, which the girl immediately immersed herself in. Satisfied that the child was content for the duration of their small cruise, Rachel stood and continued with VanHorne, "We're scientists with military acumen, and these last two missions tested that beyond any reasonable expectation. You can't expect us all to deploy into the middle of the most dangerous region in the Alpha Quadrant at a whim."  
  
"No, Lieutenant. I cannot. You can certainly sit this one out. God knows you've earned a break. I'll have Admiral Liverakos re-assign someone to head our security unit now that Mr. K'Rilish is taking over as executive and tactical officer."  
  
"K'Rilish isn't going to be on security detail?"  
  
"A tactical first officer's role shouldn't be running the security crew below decks."  
  
"I'll do it."  
  
"Honey, don't—"  
  
"I'll do it."  
  
"No."  
  
"Jas, but–"  
  
"You're going home. After this mission. And you're not running weapons."  
  
"But I'm accompanying you on this mission."  
  
"As a protector for that girl. After we deposit her, you – are going. Home."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You know why. Because we cannot fraternize. Because you're no longer my subordinate."  
  
"Jas, you keep acting like I'm pregnant still."  
  
"In my view, you just well may be."  
  
"What—"  
  
"That little girl has a home to back to, and it's our duty to take her there. After that, it's vacation city."  
  
"Jas, she doesn't have anyone."  
  
"Yes, she does. Starfleet Intel tracked down the family. The deceased father's brother is a Gagh distributor on Qo'Nos and has already petitioned for the child."  
  
"Azette."  
  
"Azetbur. And she has a family. You need to let go of your sentimental attachment. And may I add, if that little girl doesn't get back home, it'll make things a lot worse…"  
  
She didn't slap him, but her eyes dared him to continue. He paused, seeing her agitation.  
  
VanHorne looked out at the spinning top of the massive Spacedock, and upward toward the orbiting ship that they'd be docking with, it's beautiful silhouette framed by the moon. Her running light blinked invitingly.  
  
"Jas?"  
  
"There she is. Brand new."  
  
She began to get emotional, just barely keeping it in check.  
  
"How much time do we have to get here there before the Klingons try to stop us?"  
  
VanHorne looked down at the data PADD that contained the mission brief and all the pertinent information, "Barely enough. That's why they're sending us. That's why they're sending the Bonaventure," he said, looking at the newly polished nacelles, that just begged to be let loose in open space. He smiled sadly, "Because she's rumoured to be fast."  
  
With that, the travel pod nudged up just close enough to Deck 7 for the automated thrusters to spin her around, and let the universal docking clamp touch, and within seconds, straightening his uniform with a civilian in tow and a very shaky, frightened Klingon girl, they set feet onto the new ship, to be greeted by an unexpectedly large procession….  
  



	34. ACT TWO part 14

[Joint Post with Barry & Scott]  
  
USS Bonaventure, NCC 1745-A  
Stationary Earth Orbit  
Deck 7 – Junction: Security Complex/Sickbay Complex/Junior Officer's Quarters  
  
Stardate -244975.6  
  
"Admiral on deck! ATTEN-HUT!"  
  
Savion and his friends straightened to attention as soon as the boson saw the arrival of Admiral VanHorne on the main gangway. A double row of Utopia Planitia crewmembers also straightened as he came onboard, to the sound of a proper, old-fashioned boson's whistle. This touch seemed to truly catch the Admiral unawares – perhaps, in his relative short tenure as an Admiral, he had never been on the receiving end of being piped aboard, although undoubtedly he had previously stood where Savion stood now, waiting for an Admiral to board his ship.  
  
It was the right thing to do, of course. This Bonaventure was brand-new, and Savion suspected that the Admiral would have a special place for this ship in his role, perhaps being a flagship, even.  
  
"Look alive, Rachel. Don't remove those Lieutenant's badges just yet…" The ageing man said to his consort. Azette, the Klingon girl stepped closer to Rachel's legs, immediately shy about being viewed by dozens of strangers.  
  
Lt. Osgoode followed the Admiral closely – her face fully restored and healed – something Savion was personally glad to see. The injuries that she sustained on the old Bonaventure were something that even now, Savion would have preferred to not to remember.  
  
Rachel carried a large black duffel bag with her in one hand, and to Savion's surprise, a female Klingon child. Savion secretly hoped his surprise would not have shown in his expression. He could hear a faint grunt from Kitane and was certain that T'Val – still in her crisp white Engineering suit – would have most likely raised an eyebrow at this sight.  
  
Savion waited until the Admiral approached to where he stood. He saluted when the Admiral stopped in front of him "Welcome aboard the Bonaventure, Admiral! Standing ready for a tour of the ship, if you please, sir."  
  
VanHorne extended his hand, "Mr. Savion. Yes, thank you. She looks brilliant from the exterior. You've really done something remarkable here in such a short time."  
  
"Lieutenant T'Val and Ensign Kitane and I put in a lot of time to get her ready and here, sir. Thank you for your kind words. I thought we'd cover the areas of most interest, sir. Closest is Sickbay – if you would come this way?"  
  
The Admiral nodded to Rachel, who gathered the child, and protectively led her through the corridor.  
  
"Essentially the same layout so far - ?" VanHorne commented.  
  
"Yes sir, the corridors haven't changed much. One feature that you will notice – here – are one of the emergency bulkheads. The Enterprise-A was designed with these and they were used to good effect during the action at Khitomer where she was involved in that action. Of course, there's only so much room onboard and there's been considerable design changes. Many things you were used to on the old Bonaventure aren't quite in the same locations here. Sickbay is right here, sir."  
  
Savion pressed the door switch for Sickbay and stood aside to allow the Admiral to view the interior unimpeded.  
  
VanHorne peered inside, and could see a brilliant, sparkling new facility, sterile, with state-of-the-art improvements and consoles. Stainless steel replaced the older, cream colored layout, giving a more classic feel to the modernized equipment.  
  
Savion seemed to be proud, and in his element as he rattled off the improvements to the ship. He was a very capable and diligent person, the Admiral noted. It put him at ease to see that someone had a passion for the ship that met or exceeded his own. For a second, he forgot about his family burdens as he crossed his arms with the rest of the guests, and listened in to the Chief…  
  
"The latest innovations and technology has been included, Admiral," Savion said proudly, "The new bio-beds feature holographic imaging for patients under scan, for example. The surgery suites have the newest and best tools available. The associated medical labs have been upgraded from the old Bonaventure as well, resulting in a modern Sickbay ready to handle the day-to-day operations expected as well as many emergencies that the ship's designers could think to include. I'm sure Doctor Mender and his medical staff will be pleased with the new Sickbay."  
  
VanHorne looked around, "Has anyone seen Dr. Mender lately??"  
  
Lt. Osgoode only shrugged.  
  
VanHorne stepped closer to the Klingon girl, and extended his own hand, smiling. Azette took it reluctantly after a few seconds. Rachel nodded in approval.  
  
"Would you like to see the fun part of the ship?" VanHorne asked.  
  
A moment later, the universal translator keyed in, and the child seemed to respond well to whatever the Klingon word for "fun" was. She nodded affirmatively in the way that most humanoids in the Alpha quadrant were prone to do. The child was adaptable, it seemed.  
  
Savion smiled, projecting his own version of "the fun part of the ship" right away.  
  
"Engineering? Certainly, sir. This way."  
  
The turbolift ride was short and they stepped out to a gleaming and redesigned deck. The warp core intermix shaft – totally redesigned - was now encased in a transparent aluminum enclosure and the old horizontal shaft was no longer exposed, as it had been on the old Bonnie.  
  
VanHorne marvelled at the enormous beaming column, that pulsed with a soft blue light, "Remarkable. What's powering the reactor?"  
  
"Deuterium for the matter reaction mass. The dilithium crystals are now part of the core intermix chamber, allowing the crystals and the plasma stream to interact directly. This gives us a faster response time when going to warp plus we will reach top warp quicker than before. At least, that's the expectation. We couldn't test the engines at warp at Utopia Planitia nor did we have the permission to go to warp on the way here. My orders stated that the warp tests will be conducted during shakedown trials, Admiral. But in answer to your question – yes, we should be able to give even an Excelsior a run that will surprise them!"  
  
VanHorne snickered, "That would be a good thing. Is this all your doing?"  
  
"I didn't have much to do with the new warp drive program, Admiral. I set up the initial program, but it is Lieutenant T'Val and Ensign Kitane that did most of the work while I attended to other aspects of the ship's completion. With respect, sir, even though we have the new style warp coils and fuel source, these engines have well-known operational dynamics and I have full confidence in my team in the program they completed on Utopia Planitia in only four days."  
  
"Excellent work. I look forward to seeing what she can do."  
  
"Thank you sir. I look forward to seeing what she can do, as well. We'll go to Cargo next. This way."  
  


The Admiral breathed in deeply, sensing that the ship's tour was only slightly abating the two people who were in tow. He needed a diversion for the young companion that trailed along.  
  
He stopped, turned on his heal, and said to the 2 dozen silent crewmen, "It's alright. Excellent work. Back to your stations." As they immediately filed off, he looked at Osgoode, who sighed disapprovingly.  
  
"What's on your mind?" He asked.  
  
"Main engineering is NOT the "fun" part of the ship, Jas," She said, wiping graham crackers from the corner of Azette's mouth. The child's incisors were enormous, yet she seemed to devour animal crackers with nimble care.  
  
"Arboretum." She said flatly,  
  
  
"Now."  
  
  



	35. ACT TWO part 15

[Joint Post with Scott & Barry]  
  
USS Bonaventure, NCC 1745-A  
Stationary Earth Orbit  
Deck 19 – Cargo Bay Complex  
Stardate -244975.3  
  
The Cargo Deck was in the same physical location as the old Bonnie's cargo deck and they reached the railing that overlooked the bay. There were only a few stand-alone cargo containers in the middle of the deck; the storage bays were otherwise totally empty. Unlike the old Bonnie, the rear wall of the cargo bay was now a solid wall with doors in them. The separation of the shuttlebay from the cargo deck was deemed necessary as the huge open space of the early Refits secondary hull were now considered an unwarranted risk in the unlikely event of explosive decompression.  
  
VanHorne shook his head disapprovingly as he peered down the long, empty expanse of empty rows…. "The cupboards are awfully bare."  
  
Savion jogged up next to him, apologetically, "Sir, no ship leaving any Fleet shipyard – including Utopia Planitia – is outfitted for a mission. We have only the minimum necessary; one week's worth of supplies and fuel, as mandated by Fleet regulations. Her outfitting with a full load of fuel, supplies as well as everything needed for a mission-specific load is to be done here. Under normal conditions, it takes at least two weeks to completely bring a ship like this to mission readiness. We do need a shakedown of the warp engines as well as operational time to work out any of the little glitches normally associated with any new ship. Shall we move on?"  
  
Azette tugged at her guardian's tunic when they began walking toward what appeared to be a brightly lit garden beyond a massive wall of glass enclosures, that seemed to expand infinitely beyond the dullish duranium walls of corridor. Rachel let her run ahead, as she sidled up to the Admiral, "She's going to need some air, and wide open space."  
  
"I agree." VanHorne said, looking down at Rachel who walked in lock step, her emotions as carefully guarded as a Vulcan. He felt a pang of sympathy for her. Everything she had endured. Her work ethic, her lack of complaints. The injuries and the miscarriage she had suffered, yet she walked with poise and dignity. It was what him love her, though he knew beyond a doubt that the love affair was doomed not to last.  
  
They spent some time in the new Arboretum; it was largely finished with grass and an empty stream bed but there were no trees in place yet. Chief Savion bent down on his haunches, and put his hand into the stream of clear water, "When we have the chance, Admiral. Putting trees in is a fairly labour-intensive exercise, but at the very least, we have green. The stream will put into operation a little later."  
  
"Stay here with her if you wish," VanHorne said to Rachel, noting that Azette had taken off in full stride toward the rows of newly planted saplings, seemingly far more content than at anywhere else on the starship. Rachel smiled sadly, and kissed the Admiral on the cheek, a direct violation of protocol, which the accompanying officers appeared to notice.  
  
Stopping, she turned to face Savion and the remaining officers. Taking a breath, she slowly and deliberately removed her Lieutenant's badge from her shoulder and sleeve. She delicately placed them into the Admiral's hand, closing his fingers around them. With grace, she walked in the opposite direction toward the small outcropping of lichen that Azette was running around. In a few short seconds, her career as an officer was put on hold.  
  
Feeling diminished in her presence, VanHorne nodded at the accompanying officers that it was time to leave.  
  
Returning to the turbolift, they proceeded back to Deck 3, and the Officer's Lounge Complex. Accompanied by his Vulcan and Tellarite crew partners, Savion proudly showed off the lavish interior, "Also redesigned for new ways of thinking, Admiral. We can even hold parties and weddings here, following other ships' ways of utilizing this space. In fact, if I may be so bold to say so, I think it would be good idea to have a party here before we begin our mission, to greet returning crew and welcoming the new additions."  
  
They both stared out of the massive, multi-deck viewing windows which looked aft and had a grand view of the double nacelles, and Earth just beyond, its soft blue and green beckoning them all not to leave so soon. There was a moment of silence, in which the men seemed to share the finality of their shore leave, though the Chief Engineer spoke up first, as if he were trying to delay it;  
  
"Admiral, first let me say thank you on behalf of my team as well as myself for the opportunity to bring the ship here. It was long and hard work but I believe that you won't be disappointed in this ship's performance. This brings me to my primary point."  
  
Savion paused, looking quickly at his friends. "While I know that you will want to bring the ship to full operational status as soon as possible, I must remind you that my team and I are all overdue for some leave, plus I have orders from Utopia Planitia Medical to take some days off to clear my system of the stimulants I found myself taking in order to meet your schedule. I'm sure you would agree that keeping your crew in top condition also requires some down time. With your permission, I would like to request that you allow us this time off, starting right away, until the ship is ready to depart on her first mission."  
  
VanHorne nodded, his mind in another place completely, thinking of Rachel and the orphan. Savion spoke to him, though he had to repeat himself uncomfortably, "Admiral --? I was asking if we might have a brief time off before departure?"  
  
From his left pocket, VanHorne produced a small black case, which he immediately opened, containing rank pips for that of a "Lieutenant Commander" He handed them to Savion unceremoniously, and somewhat sadly, "I'm afraid, Mr. Savion, that you'll have to accept this promotion in lieu of shore leave. You're now third in command of the ship."  
  
  



	36. ACT TWO part 16

USS Bonaventure

Security Complex

G-Deck

-24505.26

 

             The last few days were a blur to K’rilish.  The word had come in quickly that his leave was over and that the new Bonaventure was being readied.  In addition to acquiring Luther Hunt he had spent the last two days coming through transfer requests for the Bonaventure’s security department.   Carte blanche had been given by Starfleet Command for all department heads to select their personnel, but no word had been given as to why the urgency. 

             His arrival had been early in the morning along with some other personnel aboard a tender that filled to the top of its bulkhead with supplies.   There had been no time to appreciate the new ship and just as little time for K’rilish to find a properly calibrated replicator to get a proper cup of coffee.  

            As he expected, the security department, like all other departments throughout the ship was far from ready.  Plastic still adorned most of the furniture, and pallets filled with cargo canister containing equipment had been placed in the middle of the floor with no regard to order.   The urgency of the Bonaventure’s readiness was evident by a pallet containing plant seeds for the ship’s arboretum. 

            Standing by one of the pallets with an inventory list on a PADD, K’rilish was forced to look for the items that were most essential for the security department’s readiness.   Luther Stahl, who had been aboard the ship hours before him was assisting.  Having never been aboard a starship before, even a new one, he was excited and talking up a storm.

            “I thought I would never see the interior of a starship again,” Luther called out.  He lifted a plastic sheet and he stared at the work station beneath.   “I can’t believe everything here is new.  We even have replicators!”

            “Those are being removed next week,” K’rilish answered.   “There is a recreation complex on this deck with a lounge.  You can eat and drink there on your own time.”

             Luther lowered the sheet and he looked at K’rilish.  “What about having coffee in the fancy lounge that we have?”

            “It’s for meetings only,” K’rilish replied.  He tapped a security code one on of the cases and he opened it.  Inside were Type II phasers.  He took one out and he proceeded to break it down on the top of another case. 

            “Mind if I ask what you are up to?” Luther asked.

            “Never trust new weapons,” K’rilish said.  He reassembled the phaser and he tossed it at Luther who quickly caught it.  “Get the chief armory officer down here with some security specialists to go through these weapons and inspect them.   I want them calibrated and logged by fourteen hundred hours.” 

            Luther gave a surprised stare.   “It’s zero ten hundred, Sir.   There has to be four pallets full of Type II phasers alone, not including those on the cargo deck assigned for the emergency access points throughout the ship.” 

            K’rilish was about to answer when two people entered the room.  One of them was a woman with long black hair and tanned skin.  The other was a Bolian who was so nervous that his skin had paled several shades.   Both of them snapped to attention. 

            “Lieutenant Avita Fernandez, reporting as ordered, Sir!” the dark haired woman called out.  Her voice was firm, almost angry sounding.

            “L-lieutenant Darz, reporting as ordered, S-Sir,” the Bolian stuttered. 

            K’rilish sized up the two people he had spent hours selecting from a long list of candidates.  He looked at Luther and while he pointed at Lieutenant Fernandez.  “That is our senior security duty shift officer,” he said.  “She can help you handle the phasers.”

            Unsure of what was going on Lieutenant Fernandez blinked at K’rilish and Luther who responded with a simple wave of his hand. 

            “Welcome aboard,” Luther said.

 K’rilish looked to Lieutenant Darz.    “Something the matter, Lieutenant?”

            Lieutenant Darz swallowed nervously.  “S-sorry, S-sir.  It’s a new posting.  My nerves t-tend to get the b-best of me.” 

            K’rilish leaned close to Darz.  “You are the same Lieutenant Darz who helped secure the President of the Federation shortly after the assassination attempt on his life on the Andorian Merchant Hub?” he asked.

            “Y-yes, Sir!” 

            “Amazing,” K’rilish said more or less to himself.  He focused back on Darz.  “Lieutenant Stahl has arranged our duty roster, Lieutenant.   I want you to meet with the other officers and duty chiefs for a full inventory and readiness evaluation of the photon torpedo and phaser departments.  I also want to see security officers beginning their patrols immediately.  There will be a lot of people come and going and I don’t want anyone taking advantage of the momentary confusion while the crew settles in.” 

            The Bolian’s face dropped another shade and he shook his head quickly.  “Y-yes, S-sir!” 

            “What about the Admiral?” Lieutenant Fernandez asked. 

            K’rilish turned to the lieutenant.   Her record listed her as an excellent marksman and a master at hand to hand combat, but she also had the misfortune of speaking out of line.  

            “You forgot something,” K’rilish growled.  “Or do I need to send you back to that one nacelled antique called a starship where you have been serving for the last two years so you can remember, _Lieutenant_?”

            Having tested her waters, Lieutenant Fernandez quickly realized her boundaries.  She stiffened to attention.  “I’m sorry, Commander.  I was just concerned about Admiral Van Horne’s security being that we are a flagship.   All flag officers are to be assigned their own security escort while off ship at all ports and installations that are not Starfleet.”

            “Thank you for reminding me something I already knew,” K’rilish answered.  “The Admiral’s security is my concern.  You may be the tertiary officer in charge of gamma shift but it doesn’t mean you are guaranteed to be on his escort.”

            Lieutenant Fernandez’s eyes flashed but she wisely kept her mouth shut.  The truth be told, she was among the best security personnel with a phaser who could serve on the admiral’s security escort, but K’rilish was not going to feed her ego.   Tearing apart and calibrating phasers was what she most needed right now.

            It was going to be tough getting the security and tactical department in order at such short notice, but it was not the first time K’rilish had been faced with a tight schedule. 

            “You have your orders,” K’rilish said to everyone.   “I have to go the bridge and check the tactical station.   I will be expecting to access duty reports from there.   We will have a fully functional security and tactical department when this ship makes ready.”

            If there were any lingering doubts about the positions that they had accepted, it was too late.  K’rilish stared at his assembled heads one last time before he turned and left the security department.    He could already imagine the four new officers grumbling about his demands.   There was a time when he did the same. 

            He was halfway to the turoblift when Marissa appeared alongside him.  She was wearing her white nurse’s attire and she was holding a container of some sort.   “Hey you!” she said.

            K’rilish pulled his ears back and he looked around the corridor.  “You said you wouldn’t do that!” he snapped.

            “Oh, can it,” Marissa said.  “There’s no one around.  Don’t you think it’s great that sickbay is on the same deck as security?  We can see each other!”

            “If you say so,” answered K’rilish.  “Just remember what we agreed to!  I cannot tolerate the gossip on starships.”

            Marissa sighed and she looked at the ceiling.  “Of course. I’m mean ol’ Nurse Gibbs and you are Mister Sunshine.   This subterfuge isn’t going to last.  You of all people know what the grapevine on a starship is one of the things that keeps people sane during long voyages.  By the way, did you check out your senior officer’s quarters?  Mine are about the same size of a coat closet.  I’d like to know what you big wigs have up there on D deck.  Is it true there is colored coded carpeting on the deck and the bulkheads?”

            “Not now!” K’rilish growled. “I have to get to the bridge.”

            “You sure get crabby when you’re busy,” Marissa said.  She noticed a crewman walking toward them and she broke out in a wide smile.  “Sure, K’rilish, I would love to have dinner with you in your quarters tonight! I’ll bring the synthale!”

            K’rilish whirled around and he glared at Marissa who blew him kiss.  He escaped into turbolift before she could say anything else. 

            The day had just begun.

  



	37. ACT TWO part 17

**StarBase 1**

**Main Cargo Bay**

 

**______________**

 

"Well, look at you!" 

 

Jexe had to smile at Owen's words. He straightened the sleeves of new uniform jacket. Even his new Captain pips sparked under the gleam of the Cargo Bay's piped in light. Worker bees and pallet-sleds criss-crossed the air above, while workers and Quartermaster Yeoman rushed about with PADDS in hand.

 

"I can get used to this," said the new Captain over the loud roar of noise. Owen recognized his best friend's brave face. That and the duffle bag thrown over his shoulder portended something was up. 

 

"So, this is serious then?" asked the Science Officer coming to a stop a few feet before Jexe. The Titan nodded and shifted his gaze to the man next to him. 

 

"Renn, you look like ... " 

 

The Bolian's hand shot up. 

 

"Don't ... say it!" he warned. His index fingers pressed into his cyan temples. He hunched his shoulders as a sled passed over head. 

 

"Sorry, sir," he said quietly. "Bolian chemistry doesn't throw off the effects of Synthahol as readily as most." He shivered at the sound of steel on steel across the bay. 

 

"And this noise doesn't HELP!" he shouted to anyone within earshot. Workers and Dockmen threw him troubled looks then turned away at the Bolian's fuming stare. 

 

"Right," said Jexe. "Let's get somewhere a little more private." 

 

Shouldering his bag he led the way across the deck. They passed in and out of the glare of fiber-optic flood lights, and lost their shadows under the shade of lifting cranes before they arrive at their destination. 

 

"Whoa ... is it really her?" asked Owen. His incredulous grin spread to Jexe. 

 

"None other," replied the Titan. "Repaired, refurbished and ready for duty from the docking bay of the Phobos." 

 

Owen stood up on the lower nacelle, reached out and ran his hand over the shuttle's name -- The USS Alacrity. 

 

"Last survivor of the USS Bonaventure," said Renn reverently, hangover suddenly forgotten. "It's like a little bit of home returned to us." 

 

"Aye that. Come on." 

 

Sending a signal through his communicator Jexe watched the port side hatch opened allowing the trio to walk in. Once in deep enough for his friends to follow he stopped. He lowered his duffle bag to the floor and faced them both. The hatch closed behind them. 

 

"Ancestors," murmured Renn and sought one of the side seats that ran along the Starboard wall. "Silence. Sweet. Wonderful. Silence." 

 

He rubbed his temples again. Owen and Jexe gauged their friend for a moment before turning to one another. 

 

"So where we going?" asked the Science Officer. Jexe shook his head with a sly grin. 

 

"First things first," he said. Lowering to one knee he unzipped his bag and rifled inside for a second or two. 

 

"Here we are." 

 

Standing, Owen caught his undisguised smile. 

 

"What's this?" 

 

He looked down at the small case and PADD placed in his hand then watched as Jexe passed two cases to Renn. 

 

"Open them," commanded the Captain. The two men did and were instantly speechless. Owen looked up at his best friend, then back down at the case and was still again for several more seconds. 

 

"Jexe ... I-I don't know what to say?" The Science Officer gingerly touched the The Cochrane Medal of Excellence that was held in the case. 

 

"Think it's my job to say ... well done, Owen, and congratulations for your unwavering dedication to duty, and crew in our conflict with the Borg. If it wasn't for you ... none of us would be here." 

 

He turned to Renn whose eyes were riveted at the Starfleet Award for Valour, and the new Lieutenant pips. 

 

"Additionally Renn, you'll be receiving a Purple Heart to go with that. But I thought the promotion, and pay upgrade would be the mark of good things to come. Congratulations!" 

 

The Bolian stood and shook Jexe's hand. "Thank you, sir. You'll have to forgive me if I'm am at a loss of words at the moment." 

 

"Just let it sink in." 

 

Taking the pips from the case Jexe pinned them on, and saluted the newly promoted Officer. Next he turned to Owen who was reading the PADD. 

 

"That's been a long time in coming, Owen," said the Titan. "Or should I say ... Lt. Owen Cross, Chief Science Officer." 

 

Owen looked up and caught Jexe's tight frown. 

 

"Owen ... your promotion to Lt. Commander was ... rescinded. I'm sorry, but I've put in an appeal." 

 

His best friend began to speak, then stopped as he answered his own question.

 

"It's P'Ree, isn't it?" he asked. Jexe nodded. 

 

During her trial and interrogations Owen's wife had insisted that he too was complicit in the Optimum Movements plot to take over Starfleet and the Federation. Additionally, he was a deep mole biding his time before making his move. Despite Admiral VanHorne and Jexe's testimony praising Owen, it was now clear that some of the higher brass in Star Fleet had believed P'Ree's words. Since the fall of the Optimum's a witch hunt had started among Officers and enlisted Crewmen. Anyone with questionable loyalty was being culled from the herd. Owen tucked his medal case into his jacket pocket. 

 

"It's fine. I'll get through this and prove her ... prove _them_ wrong." 

 

"It's a six month probational period. After that the appeal should go through," added Jexe, but his frown lingered. "But ... I'm afraid the consequences are broader. Savion's been promoted to Lt. Commander as well, making him my Second Officer." 

 

Owen opened his mouth again into a perfect 'O', closed it and dropped down into the closest seat below him. 

 

"Damn," he uttered quietly, head bow low. "No." Suddenly his hands slapped his thighs. "Actually, I'm okay with this. Savion's a good Officer. This will be good for him too." 

 

"Begging your pardon, O'Captain ... " interjected Renn with friendly charm. "But ... doesn't this suggest that we ... have a ship?" 

 

The Titan shrugged with a devil-may-care grin. 

 

"Hmm ... never thought of that," he said. "Grab a seat, gentlemen, we're already behind schedule." 

 

Owen and Renn exchanged looks. Glancing about they noticed the aft end of the shuttle. 

 

"Holy ... crap!" Owen stepped forward and examined the rows of kegs and an even larger crate at the rear of the compartment. Kneeling down he read the manifest. 

 

"Blood Wine? Really, Jexe, where are we going?" 

 

The Captain's face drew serious. 

 

"There's been an medical crisis in the Klingon Empire." Sitting down he briefed them on their mission. When finished he saw he had both of their undivided attention. 

 

"Shriebitz, Dok, and Moldo'Qos," said Renn as he stroked his chin. "Colony worlds. I'm afraid I'm not familiar with them."

 

"Aye. We have the navigational and sensor logs from the Tellarite freighter. Renn, when we get to the ship I want you to study them both. If we run into trouble with General Maskan I want to know all possible escape routes, nebulas, areas of stellar gas -- anything that can level the playing field between us and a cloaked Klingon vessel." 

 

"Right, sir. I'll get right on it." 

 

"What. Ship?" urged Owen, arms crossed over his chest. 

 

"The one we're running late for." 

 

All three men turned to the voice at the Port hatch. 

 

"Cadet Hadleigh Park reporting for duty, sir," announced a young Asian woman with short raven hair standing at rigid attention. Her starched uniform was as straight as her spine. "Permission to come aboard?" 

 

"Granted," asked Jexe with a suppressed laugh. He turned to his friends. "Owen, Renn, this is Cadet Park, Captain's Yeoman. Yeoman Park, may introduce you to Lt. Owen Cross, our Chief Science Officer, and Lt. Renn, Astrometrics." 

 

"Pleasure," said both men in unison. Owen gave Jexe a side long look. "Soooo ... Captain's Yeoman?" 

 

"Cad ... Yeoman Park specialized in Klingon culture and studies at Starfleet Academy." began Jexe. "She's fluent in spoken and written Klingon, their history and is up to date with their political current affairs. In short, she'll be our consultant for the run of the mission." 

 

Owen raised a hand. 

 

"Question? Do _I_ get a Yeoman?"

 

"No," answered Jexe. 

 

"Do I get ... anything?" 

 

"Sure. Respect." 

 

"Oo, burn!" Renn laughed. 

 

"Hm." Owen took his seat. "Now my head hurts." 

 

"Yeoman, join me up front," suggested Jexe. He patted Owen's shoulder.

 

"Yes, sir." The young consultant made her way forward. 

 

"Wait ... I have to know ... what's in the big crate?" Renn hooked his chin towards a wooden case in the back. 

 

"That?" said Jexe. "That's a bribe, something Yeoman Park suggested. We may need it at the border." 

 

Both Lieutenants arched their eyebrows. Jexe half turned for the helm, then stopped. 

 

"Owen, your PADD contains a list of all the promotions and transfers coming to the ship. Three are for Science. They'll need your signature to approve. There's also an encrypted file requiring your authorization code." 

 

Owen scrolled through the device, and inputed his personal cipher. Moment's later he raised his head.

 

"These are Envoy Spock's and Dr. McCoy's person notations?" exclaimed the Science Chief. 

 

"From their last encounter with the Klingons," said Jexe. "I want you to study, and if possible, boost the performance index. If things turn south in Klingon space I want any advantage we can get. Make it a priority when we get back to the ship." 

 

"What ship?" asked both Lieutenants at once. 

 

Jexe grinned again and took his seat at the helm. Within moments the Alacrity lifted from the docking bay floor and made its way towards a launch chute. Cleared by the Docking Master the Galileo Class shuttle left the confines of StarBase 1 and sailed through  open space. 

 

Owen studied his PADD, and quickly made his approvals of promotions and transfers. Done, out of curiosity he browsed the names of the candidates from the other departments. Many he noted were from the Phobos. He was about to put the PADD down when one name caught his eye. 

 

"Whoa ... " he exclaimed to himself. He passed the PADD to Renn who spotted the name as well. 

 

"Jexe and Admiral VanHorne haven't approved this yet," noted the Bolian. "Which means Jexe hasn't seen it. Think we should tell him?" 

 

Owen studied his best friend who worked the helm. 

 

"I don't know. I mean ... this could be a big thing for him." 

 

"This is his first mission as Captain, he's going to have a lot on his plate. Would this even be approbate?" Renn scratched his head.

 

"I'm married. You're engaged. I think it's his call, but still ... " 

 

Owen stood. 

 

"I think I should tell him." 

 

Moving forward he stooped to speak to Jexe and stopped. Through the shuttle windshield he spotted a ship growing bigger as they approached. His eyes grew wide. His heart rate climbed. 

 

"No ... way," he whispered. 

 

"Way," said Jexe. 

 

The bright running lights of the USS Bonaventure competed with the stars.

 

**______________**

 

 

**Captain Jexe O'Dag**

**Commanding Officer**

 

**Lt. Owen Cross**

**Chief Science Officer**

 

**Lt. Renn**

**Science Officer**

**Astrometrics**

 

**USS Bonaventure-A**

**NCC-1745**

 


	38. ACT TWO part 18

USS Bonaventure NCC-1745-A  
Earth Orbit Sector 001  
Officer's Lounge Primary Hull  
  
VanHorne nodded, his mind in another place completely, thinking of Rachel and the orphan. Savion spoke to him, though he had to repeat himself uncomfortably, "Admiral --? I was asking if we might have a brief time off before departure?"  
  
From his left pocket, VanHorne produced a small black case, which he immediately opened, containing rank pips for that of a "Lieutenant Commander" He handed them to Savion unceremoniously, and somewhat sadly, "I'm afraid, Mr. Savion, that you'll have to accept this promotion in lieu of shore leave. You're now third in command of the ship."  
  
Savion stared at the new rank bars in his hand – Lieutenant Commander – and felt.... how did he feel? Stunned? Surprised? Did the Admiral plan this before he even arrived? Pulling his thoughts together quickly, he looked back up at Admiral VanHorne – who for the briefest moment looked sad, like he lost something precious to him and he looked much older than his still relatively young age of only 60 years. However, that look passed quickly and Savion knew it would not be proper to inquire into a superior officer's innermost feelings and thoughts. Instead, he said "Thank you Admiral. I hope I can continue to be worthy of your trust. Would you excuse me for a few minutes?"  
  
The Admiral nodded and returned to looking out the tall viewports. Savion retreated (in a manner of speaking) to his friends. They, of course, had not missed hearing a thing. Kitane grinned and carefully put his big hands around Savion's that held the new rank bars. "Congratulations, brother! I am very proud of you."  
  
T'Val raised a hand of her own, to run her fingertips down the side of his face. "You have earned this, t'hy'la. I knew it would only be a matter of time before your skills would be recognized."  
  
"I didn't earn this all by myself, you know." Savion said. Lest he be misunderstood, he continued. "I had the best support system to help me get there – the both of you. You also deserve to be recognized for your hard work as well and I'll do everything I can to let the right people know that, too."  
  
He squeezed T'Val's shoulder gently with his free hand. "Let's see these new bars, then." Kitane dropped his hands and Savion looked at the gleaming bars. He carefully tipped his hand and the bars tumbled into one of Kitane's hands."Hold these a minute." He unfastened his shoulder strap to get at the Lieutenant's bar and swapped it for one of the new ones. "T'Val, would you...?" he asked, holding up his left arm. "Of course." she said and she swapped out the bar on the sleeve. "Now you look the part, t'hy'la." Kitane nodded. "Indeed. So... no leave, huh?"  
  
"Not for me, but you two should." Savion said.  
  
"If you don't, then I don't." Kitane said defiantly. T'Val nodded in agreement.  
  
"And if I make it an order....?" Savion asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Then you'll have to either put me in the brig or have me taken off the ship under guard, brother." Kitane said, with a half smile.  
  
"As a Vulcan, I can work long hours without impairment for longer periods than Humans or Tellarites." She added quickly; "My duty is to the ship and its crew. I will not leave them or you."  
  
For a moment, they all stared at each other, almost daring the others to blink. Savion snorted suddenly and Kitane followed with a deep chuckle. "You two are the best friends anyone could have!" Savion said, smiling. "Like I could prevent you from seeing this ship outfitted. Besides, I don't think there's anyone from our Security here yet who could the both of you!"  
  
"Remaining is most logical" T'Val said. "We can ensure this vessel's mission readiness in the Admiral's time-frame."  
  
"Big promise, T'Val. I'm willing to bet that we're looking at only days to accomplish what's never been done before."  
  
"Then we best get started." T'Val said evenly.  
  
"Excuse me, my friends. I mustn't keep the Admiral waiting any longer than necessary." They both nodded at Savion and he returned to the Admiral, still staring silently out the viewports. He stood beside the Admiral, also looking out. He paused for a moment.  
  
"Admiral."  
  
"Yes, Chief?"  
  
"I trust you have a large amount of supplies and personnel lined up to get us ready, sir?"  
  
'I do, Chief." The Admiral continued to stare out the viewport.  
  
Savion took a deep breath. "I would appreciate it, Admiral... if you'd give the word."  


The Admiral turned from the viewport, with a half-smile and more of the confidence and determination that Savion remembered him having. "Chief, the word is given." He walked over to a comm unit set into one end of the long table. "Admiral VanHorne to Spacedock Operations."  
  
A moment passed.  
  
[Admiral VanHorne, Spacedock Operations, Lieutenant B'Rul here.]  
  
"Lieutenant, have all Bonaventure personnel recalled immediately and signal the tenders to begin loading operations. I need a full load for the Bonaventure in 4 days. Do you copy?"  
  
[Yes Admiral. Loading operations will begin loading your vessel in one hour. Cargo loadmaster notified and is now enroute. Personnel recall out... now. Good luck, Admiral."]  
  
VanHorne looked back up at Savion. "The clock begins ticking now, Chief. You better get more of your people onboard as soon as possible."  
  
"Yes sir. Permission to return to post?"  
  
"Granted."  
  
"Thank you sir!" Savion turned and returned to his friends. "Say good by to sleep for the next few days. We are going to get busy." They hurried out of the Lounge, leaving Admiral VanHorne to return staring out the viewport.  
  
Six Hours Later  
  
Savion stood waiting for the last person in this group to take their place in the briefing room; this was the third group of Engineering staff from Spacedock's pool of specialists up for assignment. This bunch, however was different - of all remaining Engineering crew from the old Bonaventure – only 15% of the original complement had listed to be recalled. Engineering was badly hit at J-25, nearly half of the department was lost when all was said and done. Of those remaining, a large number were still recovering from injuries sustained and/or radiation poisoning, and unavailable. A smaller but still considerable amount either declined re-assignment or had resigned from the service; the action at J-25 had traumatized them so badly that few would ever return to space again. The rest, who now stood in the briefing room were all that answered the call. He knew most of them, a few he realized that he recognized but didn't know their names. He felt a bit of shame at that... that he never took the time to get to know his shipmates when he was a lowly fifth Lieutenant before his life changed forever. He decided that he would make sure that by the time that the ship left Spacedock, he would know their names.  
  
"Attention, please!" The low murmurs subsided. "I would like to welcome each and every one of you to our new ship. She's not quite the lady you remember her being" - there were some chuckles from the crew - "But she's still a lady to be reckoned with. Does everyone have their orders PADD? Yes? Good."  
  
Savion paused for a moment, looking at every face from side of the room to the other. "Every one of you is here because you believed in something. Believed that something was worth living, fighting and dying for. Some of us paid that last price but I will not dwell on that now. You're here because you believe that when we go out there, we will make a difference to someone in need. A difference to the good of the Federation and all it stands for. In a few days, we are going make a difference for the future of Starfleet and the Federation."  
  
"We have one of the very last Constitution Refits built. Unlike our old ship, she has the latest available technologies when she was built. She's stronger, more able to fight and defend herself than our old ship – and she's faster, too. All of you have your duty assignments – for most of you, you will be assisting immediately in the ship's load-out" - some groans - "a job most vital, by the way. We need our tools and spare parts where we can find them and I need you to make sure they are where we need to find them when we want them. The rest of you will be begin your shift familiarizing yourselves with the new drive system. All of you will rotate between loading and what would be your normal Engineering shift every two hours. Note your duty schedule and I know it's heavy, but all of us – including myself – will be working long hours to make sure we are ready when we head out."  
  
"The Bonaventure needs all of us, ladies and gentlemen. Our good name has taken a beating recently by radical elements and by some who have their own agendas and would perpetuate that feeling of ill-will. Our ship name has a long and proud history and we need to remind everyone of that fact."  
  
"We will be getting the last of our Engineering staff onboard and online over the next few days. Does anyone have any questions regarding the loading operations?" He paused, waiting. "No? Very well, then. Note who your Section Heads are over the next few shifts. Direct questions that arise to them and if they are unable to answer your questions, I will make sure those questions will get answered."  
  
"If that's all, then you are a report to your new quarters, store your personal items and get to your duty stations in no more than one hour. ONE hour, ladies and gentlemen. Dismissed!"  
  
The crew filed out, talking amongst themselves. Savion sat back down in the chair behind the table he made his statement from. He pondered the strength of the Engineering crew. While he considered the return of the old crew to be important, he needed more as they only had about half of the department's crew the ship required. The door opened again, with T'Val and Kitane walking in. He hoped they would have good news, as he had tasked them to investigate the assignment pools on Spacedock. As they approached, he suddenly noted that Kitane was trying too hard to NOT to smile.... he focused on his friends. He stood again and he saw what it was that Kitane was bursting at the seams at. A shiny new Lieutenant J.G. Bar was on his shoulder strap. Savion stuck out his hands at Kitane and grabbed his free hand – the other holding several PADDS - "Congratulations, old friend! It's about time!" He glanced over and past at T'Val's serene face to see that she now had the single bar of a full Lieutenant. "Finally! Someone's noticed your skills – congratulations to you, too! I am proud of both of you."  
  
"What gave it away, brother?" Kitane asked, his eagerness tempered by Savion's obvious pre-empting of his good news.  
  
"You're a top-flight Engineer, old friend," Savion smiled. "But you're a terrible actor."  
  
"Hah!" snorted the Tellarite. "You're one to talk!"  
  
Savion let go of Kitane's hand and turned to T'Val. "Now, *you* were too calm. I figured the two of you were up to something!"  
  
T'Val raised an eyebrow. "Then I shall have to endeavour to do better." She raised a hand to touch the bar on her jacket strap. "I find that this is strangely... gratifying. It is not logical."  
  
"Maybe it's the influence of the company you keep." Savion winked at T'Val. "It looks good on you – and you too, old friend! But, back to business. We have an impossible schedule to keep. What do you have for me?"  
  
Kitane passed over his PADDs. "We have a number of qualified personnel who are rated on our new drive system. Or more correctly, with aspects of our new drive system. Most are fairly young, about 3-5 years out of the Academy and have conducted their cadet cruises. The rest are more seasoned specialists, looking to improve their skills or for the challenge."  
  
"What about their personal dynamics profiles?" Savion asked.  
  
"The usual. Some of the younger ones intent on fast-tracking their careers, most of them are career specialists looking to find a niche to fill. A few hot-heads as well."  
  
Savion nodded. "Yes, the usual, indeed. Let me see those." Savion looked over the list quickly. He wished he could look at their records more thoroughly. "Opinion?" Kitane paused only a moment. "They are all capable. Most I believe will fit into our crew with some experience. A few- I'm not sure." Kitane looked troubled. "I hope it's just misgivings."  
  
Savion looked at the PADDs and he sighed. "Have them report for assessment, then. I want them here in two hours." Kitane looked surprised. "Two hours...?"  
  
"Two hours." Savion replied firmly. "We'll find out who's serious and who's not - because we don't have the time to dawdle." Kitane nodded. He took the PADDs that Savion held out for him. "After you get them scheduled, old friend, check on the core's plasma temperatures and keep it as per our earlier discussion. I'll be down to Engineering a little later."  
  
"Yes sir!" Kitane responded as he headed out the door.  
  
T'Val passed over her single PADD. "My results are.. interesting." she said. Savion took the PADD and looked at the file. "I'll be damned." He said. "15 people from the Phobos requesting transfer? They're not all in Engineering, either. How did they all get on this file?"  
  
"It appears to be a group transfer request." T'Val said. "Eight from Engineering, four from Medical and the last three from Sciences. You will note that this request requires approvals from each department, plus one from the Admiral in charge - Admiral VanHorne – and one Command grade rank of at least Commander. Since the Phobos was on a cadet training mission, there were no higher rank grade personnel assigned to the different departments there. Captain Drask died in combat and the First Officer is a Lieutenant Commander, so this approval has to go through our department heads."  
  
Savion looked over the list carefully. There was no doubt that they could use the staff listed. The only department line signed was Medical – Sciences, Engineering, Command and the Admiral still needed approval. He studied the Engineering personnel files on the PADD. Each of them had experience with the new deuterium fuel and isolinear chip systems. All were highly rated, excellent grades and he noted – sadly – some were injured from the action that took Captain Drask's life - however, all were recovered and cleared to return to duty. He reached the last name on the Engineering list - his eyes widened slightly and he put the PADD down. "Damn." he whispered. "She wants to transfer?"  
  
"Kerov-ahm?" asked T'Val. "Is there something the matter?"  
  
It was a moment before he responded. "No, nothing's the matter worth mentioning. I just didn't expect to see something like this. It's a highly unusual request." He looked up T'Val. "They're all rated in our new systems and they performed their duty on the Phobos with bravery and honour. They would be fine additions to our crew." He picked up the PADD and signed the Engineering department line. He pushed a button on the interface panel set into the table in a small raised hood. "Computer, location of Captain O'Dag and Lieutenant Cross?" The interface responded with "Captain O'Dag and Lieutenant Cross are on the Bridge." He pushed the button again to switch off the interface.  
  
"I'll take this to the Bridge, T'Val. Lieutenant Cross is the Sciences head so he has to sign off on this – and the Captain is on the Bridge. Since I'm third in the chain of command, I'll need to report to the Captain and check on the Bridge Engineering station. Would you go to Engineering and check on the progress of the deuterium loading? I'll get down to Engineering myself as soon as this gets to the Captain." T'Val nodded and they left the briefing room. There were personnel all over the place, determinedly manuevering small zero-g pallets down the corridors to their respective stations. As they proceeded down the corridor, they saw Security personnel overlooking the activity. Reaching the turbolift, Savion stepped inside. The lift doors closed and, turning, he was surprised that T'Val had followed him. "Suspend lift" T'Val said and the lift chimed. "Lift suspended." with the same feminine voice on the briefing room interface. Savion raised an eyebrow.  
  
"T'Val, what....?" She turned to face him, and moved closer. She brought her hands to sides of his face to hold him in order to give him a kiss that lasted.... minutes? He found himself responding to her but all too shortly, the moment ended as she broke her kiss and stepped back from Savion. "I will see you later tonight, t'hy'la. Your quarters." she whispered. Then, in a stronger voice: "Restore lift." The interface chimed and said "Lift restored."  
  
Her stoic exterior restored, T'Val left the turbolift. "I will see you in Engineering, Commander." she said to him as several other personnel passed by. "Good work, Lieutenant." He replied solemnly. "I'll discuss further readiness preparations with you when I get there." The lift doors closed and the voice asked "Destination?"  
  
"Bridge" Savion said and the lift surged upwards. The tender moment T'Val shared with him made him forget for a few minutes that Cassandra Patterson's name was on the transfer request list.  



	39. ACT TWO part 19

**USS Bonaventure**

**NCC-1745-A**

**Deck B**

 

**_______________**

 

 

"Why the Hell are you on my ship!" seethed Jexe. 

 

The Captain of the USS Bonaventure stood in the doorway of his Ready Room. The air around him roiled like the churning front of a building storm. The man facing him across the room casually sat in a plush chair, plastic sheeting just removed, on the other side of an ornate desktop craved from a perfect tablet of Rodinium. Along the walls where shelved samples of the Titan's vast rock collection, specimens picked up on his many travels and missions. Jexe stalked forward only to stop at the sudden raising of the man's hand. 

 

"Wait ... ," said Gedeon Wolfe. "I just want to enjoy this moment." His lupine-like smile soured his natural good looks twisting them into a predator's leer. The light in the room winked momentarily. Jexe's hands balled into fist, and Wolfe could feel something 'pop' in his ear. 

 

"You have ... " 

 

"Wait!" insisted the Federation News Service Journalist. "Just - just a little longer ..." Closing his eyes his smile curled higher, until he pulled in a long breath and let it out carefully in a long, slow trumpeting of sound.

 

"Ah ... " he opened his eyes. "Now _that's_ what you call enjoying the moment." 

 

The Titan ignored the man's smug look and stalked around his desk to his seat. Dropping into the Starfleet issued chair he pressed a single button on his desk console. 

 

"Commander K'rilish please come to my Ready Room, and kindly bring your TR-111 propulsion rifle." 

 

Leaning back the Titan laced his fingers together and stared into the journalist' eyes. 

 

"I'd say you have about forty-five seconds to explain why you're on my ship, and in my office," announced the Titan.

 

"Ohhh ... " Wolfe's fingers wiggled about. "Sicced your big tiger on me now, huh?"

 

"Thirty seconds."

 

"Oh, please Captain O'Dag." Wolfe's hands rose up in supplication. "I'm sure you haven't been that busy _not_ to see the Starfleet issued memo regarding the embedding of journalist on all active duty ships." 

 

"Aye, and the name on those orders were ... " 

 

Wolfe scoffed. 

 

"... was my real name, Captain O'Dag. You and I both know ... " He made air quotes. "... 'Gedeon Wolfe' is just my pen name, though it will be my real one in the future. When I travel, or wish to remain anonymous I use my real name. Simple as that." 

 

Jexe folded his arms across his chest. 

 

"So you bulled your way through just to get on the Bonnie. Okay, I'll bite ... why?" 

 

"Why? Why not! The Bonnie is the biggest story in the Federation. Months ago you faced something so unspeakable that no one will talk about it. I know, I've tried shaking every tree. Whatever it was it incited open rebellion within your ranks." 

 

This time it was the Titan's turn to scoff. 

 

"So you're here to uncover hearsay and rumours." 

 

Wolfe shook his head. 

 

"No, Captain O'Dag. I'm here to see if Starfleet's broken." 

 

Reaching into the folds of his civilian tunic he tossed out a PADD and slid it across the table between holo-pictures of Jexe's Co-parents and the Bridge Crew of the original Bonnie, including Commander Solkar and P'Ree.

 

"Perfect transparency and accountability. That's the gist of your orders, Captain. I'm to be given reasonable access to your crew and officers. Including yourself, and Admiral VanHorne." 

 

Jexe picked up the PADD and began to study it with a troubled look. 

 

"This ... is signed by Admiral Caine of First Fleet!" 

 

Wolfe's smug look returned. 

 

"She's an old dear friend of mine. You know I did her first exclusive interview when she made Captain. She owed me a solid." 

 

"Hm. I've seen how you make friends, Wolfe. I'm not sure you know the meaning of the word." 

 

A tense silence hung in the air between the two. Jexe bore the man's molten stare.

 

"Now Captain ... you wouldn't want to get on my bad side, would you?. I've seen how you make enemies. You need friends like me. This could be a mutually beneficial relationship." 

 

The Titan's mouth tugged into a cunning grin. 

 

"Believe me when I say this in all honest, Mr. Wolfe. You can go f-- " 

 

The door to his Ready Room opened, allowing the business end of K'rilish's Borg Buster to enter first, followed by the Caitian himself. Jexe held up a hand,signalling the Tactical Officer to hold his position. 

 

"I'll acknowledge and comply with the orders on your PADD, and your right to be here Mr. Wolfe," continued Jexe. "However, I will add my own caveat to the agreement." 

 

Wolfe's mouth began to open, but Jexe aimed a finger at him. 

 

"No, shut it and listen." He tapped the same finger on his Rodinium desk. "You may interact and interview any one of my crew and Officers _if_ they agree to it, and only when they are off duty. Certain areas of the ship are off limits. Security, weapons bays, the armoury, the computer core, Engineering, Operations, and the Bridge. You interfere with anyone on this ship with their duties and you are confined to quarters. Interfere with our mission and Commander K'rilish will toss you in the brig. Are we clear?"

 

Wolfe's lips trembled with anger. 

 

"Yes, Captain," he finally said.

 

"Good. You endanger a single person on this ship and I'll personally toss you in a life-pod and maroon you on  the closest Class L rock we come across." 

 

"Now wait a minute, your orders specifically say -- " 

 

"Mr. K'rilish." 

 

The chambering of the Caitian's custom made rifle froze the reporter's words in his throat. His adam's apple bobbed several times before he could speak.

 

"Fine. But I'll be sending a personal protest to Admiral Caine." 

 

Jexe leaned back in his chair. 

 

"Sure. Good luck with that." 

 

Wolfe looked down at the PADD on Jexe's desk then back to the smiling Captain. 

 

"Well?" asked Jexe with a slight tilt of his head. 

 

"Well, what?" fired back Wolfe. 

 

"What the hell are you still doing in my office?" 

 

Doing his best to hide his anger Wolfe rose to his feet, snatched up his PADD and marched to the door. 

 

"See the Quartermaster on your way down. He'll assign you quarters and a visitor's ID," called Jexe. "And Wolfe ..." The journalist paused.

 

"The next time we talk ... I'd take it as a kindness if you'd use a little more mouthwash." 

 

The Titan could hear the man's blood pressure jump. Without a word he passed through the door.

 

"Asshat," said the Captain softly to himself. Taking a cleansing breath he looked up at K'rilish's questioning stare. 

 

"I'll explain later," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "For now, come in. I have something to ask you." 

 

_______________

 

**Captain Jexe O'Dag**

**Commanding Officer**

**USS Bonaventure**

**NCC-1745-A**

 


	40. ACT TWO part 20

USS Bonaventure

NCC-1745-A

Deck G

Security Center

 

            "I have a stress test planned with the torpedo crews tomorrow at zero eight hundred.  We'll be running some dummy warheads through the launchers.  I have already notified the operations officer so the bridge staff on duty will be properly warned ahead of time."

 

            K'rilish nodded as he stared at Lieutenant Fernandez's report.   "That's good," he said.  "Let's also simulate a plasma fire in the aft torpedo room during the test.  Let's see how much the crew can handle the pressure."

 

            "So soon?" Lieutenant Fernandez asked.  She looked at K'rilish with surprise. 

 

            "It's now or never," K'rilish answered.  He was about to lecture Fernandez when the com unit on his desk beeped. 

 

            The voice that called out was calm sounding, but firm.  It was O’Dag. 

 

            "Commander K'rilish, please come to my ready room, and kindly bring your TR-111 propulsion rifle." 

 

            Without responding to the call, K'rilish turned toward one of the storage boxes that one of the quartermaster's staff had left in his quarters.  He inserted a security code and he pulled the wooden box that his friend, and former master at arms of the  Bonaventure, had given him.   Fernandez stepped back as K'rilish opened the  box and he took out the modified TR-111 propulsion rifled with the words "Ye Old Borg Buster" inscribed on the chassis in Old English script. 

 

            "What the hell?" Lieutenant Fernandez said.  Her eyes fell on the weapon with  both shock and awe. 

 

            "Grab a phaser," K'rilish said.  "The Captain seems not to be in danger, but I am not going to take any chances."

 

            K'rilish was already out the door of his office and heading toward the doors leaving the security center before Lieutenant Fernandez began to move.  Having already paced the distance from the security center to the turbolift, he knew that he had approximately twenty three seconds to reach the bridge.  Deck B, which was directly below the bridge, would afford him more time.  He could hear Lieutenant Fernandez's boots pounding on the carpeted deck behind him. 

 

            A group of medical personnel had just cleared the turbolift at the end of the corridor.  Seeing a three hundred pound Caitian with a strange weapon and the stern faced security close behind, they wisely pressed their backs to the bulkhead to let them pass. 

 

            "Deck B!  Emergency!" K'rilish shouted.

 

            There was no gentle greeting by the ship's computer.  Instead, it gave a loud confirmation chime and the turbolift sped upward toward Deck B.   Any turbo lift cars within the system were rerouted to let the one with K'rilish and Fernandez pass. 

 

            Sixteen seconds.  

 

            The lift slid to an abrupt stop with enough force that K'rilish felt the pads of his feet press firmly against the deck.   The doors opened to reveal the interior of B-Deck.  Because it was part of the bridge module, it was not much bigger than the bridge above except that it was cut into three sections all which were accessible from a small anteroom outside the turbolift.   To the right was the senior officer's conference room and to the left were the two doors that each led to the captain's ready room and the executive officer's ready room.

 

            "Stay at this turbolift," K'rilish said.  He started for the Captain's ready room.  "Shoot anyone who comes out who is not me or O’Dag."

 

            K'rilish walked to the bulkhead to the left of the door.  He pressed his back to it and then lowering his paw to the controls he pressed one of the contacts that would force the door to open much faster.  As soon he pressed it and the doors parted quickly, he spun around and he lowered the muzzle of the shotgun toward a stranger that was seated behind O’Dag's desk.  The man had been grinning, but his smile dropped at the sight of K'rilish's weapon.  

 

            O’Dag quickly motioned at K'rilish to stand to.  K'rilish watched the Titan grin while he looked back to the stranger. "I'll acknowledge and comply with the orders on your PADD, and your right to be here Mr. Wolfe.  However, I will add my own caveat to the agreement." 

 

            Unsure of what was going on, K'rilish watched as the stranger, Wolfe, started to object before he was silenced by the Captain's finger.   It may as well have been sword aimed for the man’s heart.

 

            "No, shut it and listen." O’Dag said in a sharp voice.  He tapped his finger on his Rodinium desk.  "You may interact and interview any one of my crew and Officers if they agree to it, and only when they are off duty. Certain areas of the ship are off limits. Security, weapons bays, the armoury, the computer core, Engineering, Operations, and the Bridge. You interfere with anyone on this ship with their duties and you are confined to quarters. Interfere with our mission and Commander K'rilish will toss you in the brig. Are we clear?" 

 

            It was obvious that Wolfe had tried to corner the Captain with some kind of leverage, and had now failed poorly.  K'rilish sustained the urge to smile while the man tried to salvage his pride.   "Yes, Captain." he said.

 

            "Good,” O’Dag continued.  “You endanger a single person on this ship and I'll personally toss you in a life-pod and maroon you on the closest Class L rock we come across." 

 

Wolf’s face reddened.  "Now wait a minute!” he blustered.  “Your orders specifically say -- " 

 

"Mr. K'rilish," O’Dag interrupted.  He looked to K’rilish and his eyes fell on the shotgun. 

 

K’rilish knew what he wanted.  He quickly slid the forestock of the shotgun forward to load a titanium round into the chamber.  The sound, still familiar in shotgun design over countless centuries, made Wolfe stop speaking.  He gave a nervous swallow before he managed to summon a protest.  "Fine. But I'll be sending a personal protest to Admiral Caine." 

 

"Sure. Good luck with that,” O’Dag said.

 

Defeated, K’rilish watched as Wolfe looked down at a PADD on the desk then back to the smiling Captain. 

 

"Well?" asked Jexe with a slight tilt of his head. 

 

"Well, what?" fired back Wolfe. 

 

"What the hell are you still doing in my office?" 

 

Doing his best to hide his anger Wolfe rose to his feet, snatched up his PADD and marched to the door

 

"See the Quartermaster on your way down. He'll assign you quarters and a visitor's ID," O’Dag said.  He then added. "And Wolfe ..."

 

Wolfe paused, his eyes blazing with humiliation at O’Dag who looked at him with his own satisfying smile.  “The next time we talk ... I'd take it as a kindness if you'd use a little more mouthwash." 

 

The man was trembling.  Wounded pride led to anger, but some remnant of rationality told him to keep his mouth shot.  He started for the door, but K’rilish did not step aside.  He looked down at the man as he scurried toward the turbolift.  K’rilish nodded at Lieutenant Fernandez to let him pass.   With a second nod, he dismissed her.  The seasoned officer knew exactly what he meant instead of gawking at him like a new security officer would have. 

 

"Asshat," Captain O’Dag said.  He stood up and gave his jacket a quick, satisfying tug. 

 

Still unsure what had transpired, K’rilish just stared at O’Dag.

 

            “I’ll explain later,” O’Dag said.  He gave a dismissive wave of his hand.  “For now, come in.  I have something to ask you.”

 

            K’rilish lowered the shotgun with the muzzle aimed at the deck and he cleared the loaded round from the chamber.   “I hope whatever it is that it won’t involve me getting on your bad side, Captain,” he said with a fanged smile.  “How can I be of help?”

  



	41. ACT TWO part 21

**USS Bonaventure**

**NCC-1745-A**

**Deck B**

**_______________**

  


"Well?" asked Jexe with a slight tilt of his head. 

  


"Well, what?" fired back Wolfe. 

  


"What the hell are you still doing in my office?" 

  


Doing his best to hide his anger Wolfe rose to his feet, snatched up his PADD and marched to the door. 

  


"See the Quartermaster on your way down. He'll assign you quarters and a visitor's ID," called Jexe. "And Wolfe ..." The journalist paused.

  


"The next time we talk ... I'd take it as a kindness if you'd use a little more mouthwash." 

  


The Titan could hear the man's blood pressure jump. Without a word he passed through the door.

  


"Asshat," said the Captain softly to himself. Taking a cleansing breath he looked up at K'rilish's questioning stare.

  


“I’ll explain later,” O’Dag said. He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “For now, come in. I have something to ask you.”

 

K’rilish lowered the shotgun with the muzzle aimed at the deck and he cleared the loaded round from the chamber. “I hope whatever it is that it won’t involve me getting on your bad side, Captain,” he said with a fanged smile.  “How can I be of help?”

  


"In a way you have." Jexe gestured for K'rilish to take a seat while he returned to his own. "You just demonstrated your ability to anticipate me." Jexe nodded at the Borg Buster. "Off my look you knew how to back my play with just an action." 

  


His smile became thoughtful. 

  


"When you chambered that round, thought Wolfe would ... . Well, glad he didn't." 

  


Picking up the holo-picture of the Bonnie's Bridge Crew the Titan became quiet for a moment. 

"In the past years we've been beset by enemies with a singular idea. They wanted to destroy us, and in many of those case they nearly did." His voice lowered. "Many people I've been proud to serve with have died ... or have been taken away from us. But ... " 

  


He returned the frame to his desk. 

"... We're still here mainly because we also all shared a singular idea." He looked up at K'rilish.

"Trust. In the time we've served to together Lt. Commander I can easily count you as a man I can trust." Reaching into his jacket pocket he withdrew a small case, slid it towards the Caitian and opened it. 

  


"The job's yours if you want it," said the Captain. Under the ceiling scones the Commander pips shimmered. 

  


Jexe leaned back slightly and laced his fingers together again. 

"I'm not asking you to step down as our Tactical Officer and Chief of Security. Instead I'm asking you to assume the role of that, and my First Officer. I know it's a lot to place on your shoulders, but I need a man I can count on,not an outsider, but someone who knows how to get things done ... and is wearing the boots to do so." 

He stood and moved around the desk. 

"Delegating doesn't come easy for you. You're a hands on kind of Officer, but I expect you'll know when and when not to. For now ... I hope you'll say 'yes'." 

  


The Captain extended his hand. 

  


**______________**

**Captain Jexe O'Dag**

**Commanding Officer**

**USS Bonaventure**

**NCC-1745-A**

  



	42. ACT TWO part 22

USS Bonaventure, NCC 1745-A

Stationary Earth Orbit

Deck A - Bridge

Stardate [February 1st, 2300 – Time:  07:59-Z]

 

 

Lieutenant Vril took his seat at the helm station, and before getting an opportunity to sign in, he cracked his green knuckles, and took an opportunity before the changing of shifts to speak with Admiral VanHorne who was giving a cursory inspection of the bridge before giving over control to the new Captain.  He swivelled in his chair, looking back at the older man, who calmly nodded at the new, brilliantly furnished bridge,

"Admiral, if I may speak with candor…"  Vril looked around and could see only two other low-level crewmen carrying out the morning cleaning duties,

"are you completely comfortable leaving behind your old post to Captain O'Dag?  The center chair is the most coveted spot in all of Starfleet—"

 

VanHorne laughed softly,

"No, I am _more_ than happy to do so.  There's an awesome burden that goes with that chair."  He then started counting off on his fingers, "The crushing responsibilities for one….the inability to go below decks without missing something crucial.  Reports upon reports piling up.  Inventories.  Logistics.  Behavioural problems.  Admin nightmares.  Captain's mast.  No, Lieutenant…."

 

VanHorne looked at Vril from across the bridge, as he stepped nearer to the turbolift doors, preparing to return to his quarters, and take a well earned nap,

  
"I'm glad that someone else gets the center chair for a while."  He looked at the black leather seat, which was empty.  On either armrest was a small row of buttons that linked the Captain's chair to every department on the ship,

"I'm quite happy to play the role of elder statesman during this mission.  For the foreseeable future, absolutely NOTHING could prompt me to want to jump in that chair again."

 

There was a small moment of relative silence on the bridge after VanHorne said that, during which the two men shared a peculiar sense of uncertainty.  And then…

 

FFFFWWWWWHOOOOOMM!!! 

 

FFFFWWWWWHOOOOOMM!!! 

 

FFFFWWWWWHOOOOOMM!!! 

 

 As the familiar sound of the photon torpedo firing indicator rang out along with the deck shudder and firing klaxon, the entire bridge crew watched as three shiny, red projectiles darted from their ship's position in Earth's orbit.  The 3 photon torpedoes arched toward space, and the bridge crew reacted immediately, throwing the scene into that of panic.

 

"STATIONS!!!"  VanHorne shouted jogging forward, then, using his weight to pivot on his bad ankle, immediately leaping over the stainless steel railing, half flying, then careening into the Captain's chair, which swivelled with VanHorne's weight, his boot's skidding the seat to a stop, his left arm gripping the seat, his right hand's  fingers flying across the armrest, slapping the all-call:

 

"ALL DEPARTMENTS!  REPORT IMMEDIATELY!"  He shouted, his heart racing.

 

"Sir, we are firing photon torpedoes!!!"  Lieutenant Vril said loudly, equally as startled as VanHorne.

 

"SOUND RED ALERT!" VanHorne said hotly, "INFORM STARBASE 1 WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!"

 

Departmental reports began coming in, overlapping one another…

 

[Environmental control reports condition green]

[Worker Bee Maintenance reports no problems]

[Navigational Deflector room standing by]

 

VanHorne looked over his shoulder at the empty tactical station, that was now located directly rear of the Captain's chair,

"Where the devil is --??"

 

Lieutenant Vril spoke up,

"Sir!! The ops board is reporting a fire in the rear compartment of our forward-only facing torpedo launcher!!"

 

VanHorne's face dropped as he flailed around, trying to get answers.  His heart rate jumped from 65 BPM to 110 in a matter of seconds, and he gasped for air, as he tried to assess why exactly the ship seemed to be under attack though they were barely a kilometre distance from Starbase 1 …

 

_2374_

_Deep Space Nine_

_The Bajoran System_

 

            “There are going to be multiple battle groups for the first wave.   Captain Tomorav of the _USS Geronimo_ has agreed to take the bravo group.  Naturally, I’d like for you to take delta group.  I want my flank covered by the two people I know who won’t back down if things should get tough.”

 

            Captain Benjamin Sisko looked across to the far side of the conference room to the hulking figure seated in the shadows.   He had intentionally dimmed the lights for his guest whose eyes were still recovering from a flash fire fuelled by a plasma leak on his starship just weeks earlier.   If there was some hesitancy on part of the guest, he knew it was justified. 

 

            “I know your ship was just patched together,” Sisko continued.  “In fact, I am asking a lot from you, but if we gain a victory at the Chin’toka System, we could alter the course of this war for good.     At the same time, I will understand if you find that you and your crew….”

 

            “We’re ready,” the gruff voice called out.  “Just tell me _when_.”

 

            Anyone else who did not know the figure in the shadows would have found the angry sounding voice a cause for apprehension.   Sisko, on the other hand, gave a pleased smile.   Had the circumstance been different, he would not have pressed his friend had he just done.     He knew that he was asking too much, and to a degree, shamelessly depending on his guest’s sense of honor. 

 

            But this was a war. 

 

            “Admiral Ross is still debriefing the other personnel,” Sisko continued.  “We have about eighteen hours before we depart.  If there is anything that you need, consider the resources of DS9 at your disposal.”

 

            “My ship will be ready under her own power and under her own resources, Captain.  Lead us, and we will follow.”

 

            “You were always someone who knows how get things done, Captain K’rilish,” Sisko said.  “Thank you.”

 

            The guest leaned forward into the lone dome of light that shone over the conference table.   The Caitian face had not changed much when he first met him while serving as a young officer on the _USS Livingston_.  There was a slight graying around the tufts of fur on his ears and cheeks, and his left eye was a milky white as result of the treatments to his flash damage.   His lack of vanity was not much different than what Sisko possessed, or an aged Klingon warrior.   There would be no hiding his aging or his scars.

 

            “A friend told me the same thing when I received my Commander’s pips,” K’rilish said.  “He also said I wore the boots to make things happen.  He had a unique way of stating things.”

 

            “I don’t recall you ever talking about that,” Sisko said.  He allowed himself a moment of familiarity.  “You never talked much about the _Bonaventure_ , K’rilish.  I always felt it was something very personal.  You must have had some close friends on that ship…so long ago.”

 

            For a moment, Sisko thought he saw something close to sadness appearing on the Caitian’s face.   As if fearing he had shown a moment of weakness, K’rilish leaned back into the shadows. 

 

            “They were all my friends,” he said. 

 

_2299_

_USS Bonaventure-A_

_Deck B_

_CO’s Ready Room_

_(Before Admiral Van Horne’s call to action)_

"Delegating doesn't come easy for you. You're a hands on kind of Officer, but I expect you'll know when and when not to. For now ... I hope you'll say 'yes'." 

            K’rilish stared at the case in O’Dag’s hand and his outstretched one in the other.   The commander’s pips glistened under the lighting in the office reminding K’rilish of a path that he was most uncertain to avoid. 

 

            To refuse this man with his hand outstretched would be an unthinkable act.  There was no Caitian tradition that required K’rilish to take the hand, but rather his own form of honor.   He extended his paw and he shook O’Dag’s hand in return.   The handshake was not so much the acceptance of his new rank, but a personal oath. 

 

            “Wherever you lead, Sir, I will follow.”

  



	43. ACT TWO part 23--"Tail on a Hot Plate"

USS Bonaventure-A

Deck B

Outside the CO’s ready room

Stardate: [February 1st, 2300- Time: 07:59Z]

 

            Still holding the case with the Commander pips, K’rilish left Captain O’Dag’s ready room with a sense of pride and apprehension.   He was proud of the promotion, but the apprehension was over the fact that he now had twice the work load.   If the security and tactical department were lacking in any degree, it would be him that Jexe would come to for an explanation.

 

            Reaching the turbolift, K’rilish was about to tell the computer to take him to G Deck so he could tell Marissa the news when the red alert klaxon sounded.  He froze and he stared at the flashing red indicators with surprise.   An emergency alert while at Earth was almost impossible.

 

            “Bridge!” K’rilish yelled.

 

            It was short three second ride from B Deck to the bridge.   When the doors parted, K’rilish saw that everyone was at their stations.  Admiral VanHorne was seated in the captain’s chair which still seemed appropriate.

 

            “Report!” K’rilish called out.  He started for the tactical station.

 

            Lieutenant Vril quickly responded.  “We just fired three photon torpedoes, Sir.  There is also a fire in the rear compartment of our fore torpedo department!  I’m trying to get confirmation from the deck officer there.”

 

            K’rilish felt his stomach drop at the news.  Already, VanHorne was looking at him for a proper explanation.  Being a flag officer now, he would be properly disposed for a full and ready explanation from K’rilish. 

 

            Shock turned to anger.   Someone had dropped the ball for the planned stress test, but it was K’rilish’s tail that was on the hot plate.  He had been the Bonaventure’s executive officer for less than five minutes, and it could very well be the shortest tenure any executive officer may have had in the history of Starfleet.  

 

            “It’s a stress test!” K’rilish said.   He looked to the Admiral.  “It was scheduled for tomorrow at zero eight hundred hours along with a fire suppression drill that I ordered.   Someone must have filed the wrong report!  Regardless, Admiral, I must accept responsibility for this.”

 

           

            <Van Horne>

 

OFF _:   “Aboard my ship, excellent performance is standard, standard performance is sub-standard, and sub-standard performance is not permitted to exist - that, I warn you.”_ Lt Commander Queeg “The Caine Mutiny”  (played by the excellent Humphrey Bogart)

 

Commander K’rilish

Executive/Tactical Officer (soon to be deck hand)

USS Bonaventure-A

Sto-Vo-Kor Act Two Part 22 "48 Hours"  
  
USS Bonaventure NCC-1745-A  
  
Main Engineering 0900 (NOTE: this takes place 1 hour after the *scheduled*  
torpedo stress test)  
  
"Lieutenant Commander Savion?"  
  
Savion thought he had heard every voice possible in his department plus most of the ones from the other departments. With all the running around the ship, responding to requests for the numerous glitches to be looked at, he thought he'd heard every voice at some point in the last.... day? 2 days? However long it was since the ship began it's loading for the upcoming mission. Only thing, he was getting so tired, he was losing track of the whens, hows and whos.  
  
Plus, the voice came right as he stuck his upper body under a console routing the main circuitry for the transporter system and he jumped, hitting his head on the console's underside. He dropped the probe from the shock of the hit and while not that bad... well, it still stung. "Owww!" He exclaimed as the tool chimed sharply on the deck. "Who the....?" And he peered out from under the console. All he could see were two black-clad legs at first and as he pulled himself back out, the rest of the figure resolved into a young Human woman of Asian descent. Her uniform was as crisp as if it had been dipped in starch; her short black hair was neatly and perfectly in place. However, she had a worried look on her face, which aside from her worried look, was exquisitely unlined and smooth.  
  
"Commander, are you all right? I didn't mean to startle you."  
  
"Just a bump..... uh, Yeoman? I'm sorry, you are...?" Savion didn't think it was possible for anyone to stand any more straighter than she already was but she seemed to have managed it, to Savion's bemusement.  
  
"Cadet Hadleigh Park, Captain's Yeoman, SIR!"  
  
Savion got up off the deck and stood to face here. God, she was tiny, the top of her head barely at his own shoulder level. "At ease, Yeoman. We don't bite here. Well, maybe some of us would, but not me. What can I do for you?"  
  
She held out a PADD to Savion "From the Captain, sir. And his compliments."  
  
Raising an eyebrow at the comment, he took the PADD and started reading it. Moments later, he stopped and looked at Yeoman Park. "Now? Really? We're going to be heading out on our mission in only a few days..."

"Yes sir!" she interrupted smoothly. "Especially now, while there's still the chance! Begging your pardon, sir, but you look like you could use the rest."  
  
"That bad, huh? No, don't answer that. I'm not sure I want to hear the answer. Just a moment."  
  
He returned to the PADD and finished reading the page – one of many, he noted on the page count icon. But the first page was clear enough. "Very well, Yeoman. I must accept, then. Will I have time to pass my schedule to someone qualified?""  
  
"More than enough time, Kerovan" a familiar female voice came from someone. "You can just give that schedule to me."  
  
"Karen?!?" Savion spun around, seeing Karen Patterson, in her uniform coming up behind him. "What are you doing here? I thought you were..."  
  


"..filling in for you." She finished for him. She came up to him and gave him a hug. "It's good to see you again, Kerovan. Good god, what was Command THINKING?? Nearly 3 weeks off for every member of the crew, except for you and your accomplices, where the three of you are working nearly non-stop to get this ship here from Mars and then have to get ready for a mission with a ridiculous and seemingly impossible time frame!" She looked him over quickly. "And nearly ready to collapse, too, from the looks of you."  
  
Savion was about to say something when Karen suddenly interrupted him. "Shush! Not a word! Give me your schedule." She held out her hand, wiggling her fingers. He looked quickly at the deck, where his tool kit was. "Right there."  
  
"Ah!" Karen bent down quickly and snatched the PADD sticking out of the tool box. "Don't worry about a thing. Captain O'Dag has arranged for Cassie and I to handle things while you're gone for the next 48 hours. You better come back looking and feeling better, mister!" She laughed and smiled. "I still can't thank you enough for what you did for me on the old Bonnie. And look!" She pointed at her jacket strap.  
  
"Karen, congratulations! You made Lieutenant Commander as well!" Savion was genuinely happy for Karen. She looked so.. relaxed and content. "You look... wonderful."  
  
She grinned at him. "It's good to be back and we'll have time to get caught up later. Now, aren't you forgetting something?" She glanced quickly past his shoulder.  
  
"Forgetting....? OH!" Turning again, he looked back at Yeoman Park. "Thank you, Yeoman. You can let the Captain know I'm leaving right away." She continued to stand stiffly at attention. "Uh, dismissed?" Park relaxed slightly and smiled, a bit. “Thank you, sir!" She turned around herself and left quickly.  
  
From behind Savion, Karen's bemused voice said. "Same with you, soldier. DISMISSED!" And she laughed again. He couldn't help but smile himself. "Yes ma'am! On my way!" He started to head to the turbolift in hand. "And Karen.." he said, looking back at her. She looked up from the PADD she held. "It's good to see you again. I'm glad you're here." She snorted softly and had a half smile on her face. "So am I, Kerovan. The Bonaventure will always be home to me."  
  
Savion hurried to the turbolift. "Deck 4, officer's quarters." He had only a half hour to get changed and report to the shuttle deck.  
  
To Be Continued

  


The Chateau, Lake Placid, Earth  
  
Leave + 1 hour 55 minutes.  
  
The Chateau! Constructed in the late 21st Century, the Chateau was situated on a parcel of land that formerly had of a number of private but non-historical buildings of the time. The Chateau itself occupied a spot high up on one of the mountains, the surrounding land was preserved as natural landscaping, with recreational facilities and trails within the boundaries of the chateau's estate.  
  
Savion, T'Val and Kitane arrived by shuttlecraft, which landed at the Chateau's expansive front driveway. They disembarked to a late winter day; the skies were cloudy but not too bad. According to the local weather monitoring stations, it was a cool -5C and he knew the sun was low in the sky as it was late afternoon. The snow had been cleared from the driveway, making their walk up the front stairs easier. As they reached the top step, the shuttle's engines picked up in pitch. Savion turned to see the shuttle lift off and climb quickly, headed south back to New York. The sight practically took his breath away with its utter beauty. The entire valley was laid out in front of him, with the doughnut-shaped lake at the bottom of the valley iced over. The bumps of the trees could be seen, which were hidden under a thick blanket of snow. Savion felt a sudden pang of homesickness; this was a sight that was familiar on his homeworld, but... no. Never again would he see those lands nor set foot on that planet... he pushed those long-forgotten memories back into the hidden recesses of his memory.  
  
"Brother!" called Kitane. Savion turned around to see his friends at the large front doors, one of which was open and a Human male in a black outfit stood there. T'Val looked at him with a "hurry up, I'm cold" kind of look so he hurried to the door even though he knew that she had to be uncomfortable in this climate.  
  
"Lieutenant Commander Savion, Lieutenants T'Val and Kitane." the man said. "Welcome to the Chateau. We hope you enjoy your stay here."  
  
"Thank you. We are honoured to be here. It's very lovely."  
  
"Yes, sir, it most certainly is. Please come in."  
  
T'Val didn't need to be told twice. She adroitly slipped around the man as he stepped aside to invite them all in. Kitane and then Savion entered and the large door boomed softly as the man closed it. The interior was astounding. It was like the large central portion was a shell, with it's large open spaces. "Now this is what I call amazing!" Savion said and his voice echoed through the large central chamber of the chateau.  
  
"Yes sir." the man said. "You can call me Jeeves." Savion looked at... "Jeeves" oddly. "It's a tradition going right back to the beginning of the Chateau." Jeeves explained. "It started off as a joke with the original owners but as the estate changed hands over the years, subsequent owners liked the name and changed the title of the Head of Staff – such as myself – with the title of 'Jeeves'. The actual origin of the name and why it was a joke has been lost over time."  
  
"I see.... Jeeves. I hope we're not putting you or your staff out with our visit here."  
  
"Certainly not, sir, don't be ridiculous. We're pleased to have members of the starship Bonaventure here. Shall I show you to your rooms?"  
  
"By all means!" Savion said. "I feel I could sleep the entire leave away!"  
  
"Oh, I do so hope not, sir. The Chateau has much to offer." Jeeves led them to the large staircase and took them to the third floor. "Dinner will be in 2 hours." He said. "We have a large selection of meals available for your pleasure. There is a terminal showing the layout of the Chateau in each of your rooms and you can order a meal to your liking there. I do urge you to utilize it and I trust we will see you then. We have other guests whom you will meet at dinner tonight as they are currently enjoying our recreational facilities." They reached the top of the stairs and he turned towards one of the wings of Chateau. He stopped at one door and opened it. "For you, Mr. Kitane. I trust you will find your accommodations satisfactory."  
  
Kitane stood in the open door and turned his head to his friends. "It is more than satisfactory!" He grinned. "I'll be a few minutes!" as he disappeared inside. "Your room is next, Miss T'Val. This way." He led them both to the next door and he opened it. T'Val looked in and then back at Jeeves. "This much larger than I require." She stated to him. "Nevertheless, Miss T'Val, this is your room." Jeeves said simply. "It has a fireplace and a climate control. We realize that this time of year is not to your suiting, but we do our best to accommodate our guests. Would you like to try it out?" T'Val paused, clearly coming to grips with this new reality. She nodded. "Very well. I am intrigued." And she entered her room. Jeeves turned to Savion. "Your room is next, sir. Shall we, while your compatriots are checking out their accommodations?"  
  
"By all means. I am ready to see it!" He grinned. Jeeves led to the door past T'Val's room and opened it. He stood aside and with a sweep of his hand, invited Savion in. The room was.... amazing. Large, for a bedroom. The ceilings were unexpectedly high and he felt that the room easily could have competed with the Bonaventure's Rec Deck in overall dimensions. "Wow......." he breathed. "This is... uh.... I'm speechless!" He continued to look around and he headed for the large windows. The view was a magnificent view of the one he had from the top of the steps outside. After staring out for a moment, he turned for the bed; a classic four-post bed with curtains. The bed itself was larger and wider than the one in his quarters and it looked like he could get lost in it. He slid his travel tote off his shoulder, put it down and sat on the edge.  
  
"Oh... this feels really comfortable." Every sense he had said he should just fall back onto the bed and let nature take its course.  
  
"Yes sir." Jeeves said. "I understand that it is now... 11:25 AM your ship's time?"  
  
Savion looked up at Jeeves. "Why, yes. It is. You're very thorough, Jeeves. I'm impressed."  
  
Jeeves smiled slightly. "I'm sure you will be making good use of the bed shortly after dinner tonight."  
  
"I plan to, yes! Thank you again."  
  
"Then, if you will excuse me, I will see to the kitchen and prepare the dining room. Do make a choice of meals at the terminal." He indicated a small desk off to one side of the room. "Make yourself comfortable and familiarize yourself with what the Chateau and the surrounding estate has to offer while you're here. Dinner attire will consist of formal wear, you have an appropriate outfit in your size awaiting you in the closet. Leave your uniform over the chair and we will ensure it is cleaned and returned to you in the morning. Good evening, sir." He bowed slightly and backing out of the room, closed the door.  
  



	44. ACT TWO part 24

**USS Bonaventure**

**NCC-1745-A**

 

**Stardate: [February 1st, 2300- Time: 07:59Z]**

 

**_____________________________________**

 

**Deck G**

 

"Oh-my-God! It's you, isn't it? -- You're really here!" 

 

Gedeon Wolfe beamed at the star-struck Yeoman who stood before him. Her blonde trusses bounced as she hopped on her toes. 

 

"Well, looks like you caught me, Crewmen ...  ?" he said in his most debonair voice. The blonde's eyes sparkled and jumped along with everything below her neck. 

 

"Lars! Veronica Lars!" 

 

"Well, Ms. Lars -- it is Miss, isn't it?" he slip to her side and wrapped her hand around his bicep. "I seem to be lost. Wonder if you can help me find my quarters on --  

 

FFFFWWWWWHOOOOOMM!!! 

 

FFFFWWWWWHOOOOOMM!!! 

 

FFFFWWWWWHOOOOOMM!!! 

 

"What the f --- !" He paled and wrenched her in front of her. 

 

"We're under attacked!" shouted the Crewmen. Her stance dropped, she shrugged him off and looked about quickly. 

 

"I have to get to my post," she said in a controlled voice. "Stay where you are and a Security Officer will assist you." 

 

"But -- " he pleaded. 

 

"DO IT!" her demeanor changed as quickly as she sprinted down the hall. Soon dozen of Officers and Crewmen flooded the corridor faces set and focused on their duties. Wolfe pressed himself against the wall, heart hammering against his chest. The Klaxon continued to wail and he wondered how long he had to live. Suddenly, the corridor was bathed in a blood red flashing light. 

 

"NO!" 

 

He rushed down the hall, dodging the on coming deluged of faces and bodies, two he knocked sprawling to the ground without looking back before he broke through the throng of commotion. Up ahead he spotted what looked to be a single Crewmen knelt down in front of an open panel. 

 

"HELP ME!" he screamed, skidding to a stop and grabbing the man's work overalls. 

 

"Whoa - whoa, easy there!" began the Tellarite, a Petty Officer according to his badge. Wolfe jerked him to his feet.

 

"GET-ME-OFF-THIS-GODDAMN-SHIP ... NOW!" The reporter screamed into K'Liver's face. The PO winced at his breath. 

 

"The Hell? Listen, take it easy, it's just -- " 

 

"Do you know who I am? I'M GEDEON WOLFE! NOW GET ME -- "

 

The klaxon stopped. 

 

"Oh no! -- what does that mean?" 

 

K'Liver battered the man's hands off his uniform. Their eyes locked before the Environmental Specialist glanced up and listened. 

 

"What's happening?" repeated Wolfe, panic evident in his voice. K'Liver shook his head and lowered to one knee. Picking up a PADD he quickly scanned it and worked a menu. His eyes drew wide. 

 

"W-What!" tittered the reporter.

 

"Catastrophic ship wide failure," said K'Liver in a grim voice. His fingers worked again. "She's going to blow!" 

 

"What!" Wolfe bounced around looking from side-to-side. His red shadow danced with him.

 

K'Liver jumped to his feet and passed him the PADD. 

 

"Take this -- It's a count down!" he pointed at the PADD and the numbers counting down from thirty. "But you can make it!" he hooked his chin down the corridor. "Second junction there's an escape pod. Climb in. It should shield you." 

 

"But -- " stammered Wolfe. 

 

"GO! I'll try to delay things from here! RUN!" 

 

Wolfe did, gripping the PADD he sprinted. Blood rushed through his ears, crimson lights flickered with his heart. He passed one intersection, then two and saw it. Slamming his fist against the emergency release stud he risked a glance at the PADD as the escape pod opened. 

 

Eight seconds left. He felt his bladder loosen and jumped in. 

 

"Close, damn you -- CLOSE!" 

 

With agonizing speed the hatch shut behind him.

 

**\-- 4-3-2 --**

 

He hugged himself into a fetal position. He prayed. 

 

Nothing happened. 

 

He counted to ten. Nothing happened again. He waited a full minute before peeking though the hatch porthole. The corridor remained, only the flashing lights were gone. 

 

"The Hell -- ?" 

 

Fumbling with the controls the hatch opened and with some difficulty he crawled out. Up and down the corridor Crewmen and Officer's walked about as if nothing had happened. 

 

"Sir, are you all right?" asked a passing Officer. Wolfe looked about in a dazed manner. 

 

"The ship -- I-I thought we were gonna -- " 

 

The Officer chuckled. 

 

"It was just a stress test sir. Nothing more." 

 

"What?" He clutched his chest. His heart was still hammering against his ribs. He looked back in the direction he just came. 

 

"That ... son of a --- The man's psychotic!" 

 

 

**_____________________________________**

 

**Deck E**

**Officer's Mess**

 

 

The laughter was side splitting. 

 

Jexe and Owen wiped tears from their eyes. Renn slapped K'Liver on his back as he struggled to breathe. Rachel leaned against Azette's shoulder and tried to control herself.

 

"K'Liver ...  you're -- you are completely psychotic!" said the former Security Officer. 

 

The Tellarite wiped his eye and held up a hand. 

 

"I know. I know ... I'm gonna go to Hell for that, but ... you should have seen the look on his face!" 

 

Laughter erupted again as more dinning Crewmen and Officers looked over their shoulders at the group. 

 

"Let me get this straight. The ship's all right?" asked a breathless Renn. Jexe shook his head. 

 

"Like K'rilish explained, it was just a stress test, set off a day early. Our new XO's heaped the mishap on his shoulders. I told him it was fine, but that as our new XO discipline was now his responsibility." 

 

"Oh man, I'd hate to be the person who misfiled that test," said Owen. The group tried to suppress another round of laughs. Tried. Finally Jexe moved over, scooped Azette up and placed her on his shoulders. 

 

"Come on," he hooked his shoulder towards Rachel. "Let's find the Admiral. Time to give him a status report." 

 

 

**____________________________________**

 

**Petty Officer K'Liver**

**Environmental and Environmental Accessories Specialist**

 

**USS Bonaventure**

**NCC-1745-A**

 


	45. ACT TWO part 25

USS Bonaventure, NCC 1745-A

Stationary Earth Orbit

Deck A – Bridge

Stardate [February 3rd, 2300 – Time:  09:14-Z]

 

 

The bridge was deadly silent, though the red alert lights still flashed.  Slowly gathering that the torpedo firing sequence and lower deck fire were a simulated drill, Lieutenant Vril slowly returned the entire ship to Yellow Alert upon a nod from the Admiral, who waited for a cue from the flustered Caitian….

 

“It’s a stress test!” K’rilish said.   He looked to the VanHorne, who stood with his fists clenched, obviously quite perturbed.  The Caitian was slow and deliberate with his explanation;

  “It was scheduled for tomorrow at zero eight hundred hours along with a fire suppression drill that I ordered.   Someone must have filed the wrong report!  Regardless, Admiral, I must accept responsibility for this.”

VanHorne let out a deep breath, and clutched his chest like Napoleon standing in front of a devastated battlefield.  He slowly turned, taking in the bridge scene which was slowly snapping back to normal.  He stepped forward, and stared K’Rilish directly in the eye;

“Who was scheduled to run operations for this duty shift?”

K’rilish looked down at the tactical station.  He accessed the personnel database and within seconds he had the name of the on duty operations officer.

“That would be Ablesman Gorgolu, Sir,” K’rilish said.

“I’d like to pay him a visit.”

 

Deck  F – Enlisted Quarters

Stardate [February 3rd, 2300 – Time:  10:59-Z]

 

 

“So we’re looking for ….”  VanHorne scanned the security data PADD, “ _E4 Ablesman Gorgolu.”_

 

“Yes, Sir,” said K’rilish.  “He is off duty and he is resting,”

 

“I don’t have to mention that everyone’s stress levels haven’t turned to normal yet.” The Admiral said, simultaneously turning a corner with the Caitian, the Orion, and Fernandez.

 

“I nearly lost control of both of my bladders.”  Lieutenant Vril said smiling at Lieutenant Fernandez, who laughed.

 

VanHorne grunted, “Can it, you two.  You all know that I’m not a stickler for decorum, especially considering the extraordinary nature of what we’ve all endured together.  But this morning was unacceptable.  Half the ship thought we were under attack, or attacking someone else.”

 

“It will NOT happen again,” K’rilish said with a growl.  Unlike the others, he found no humor in the error.

 

Rounding the final corridor, they arrived to the center of Deck 4, and the smallest, most least accommodating quarters on the entire ship.  The hundreds of enlisted crewmen all slept in tight confines, and in this particular area, the accommodations were bunks instead of the hotel-like accommodations belonging to higher ranking officers.

 

As they stopped in front of Crewman Gorgolu’s quarters, they hesitated as VanHorne looked to Mr. K’Rilish,

 

“The Klingon homeworld of Qo’Nos is having a crisis of unheard of proportion.  If we don’t clean house and leave soon, it will be a disaster in every sense of the word.  Why in the hell are we allowing yellow journalists on board?”

 

“It was a direct order from Starfleet Command, Admiral,” K’rilish explained.   “Mr. Wolfe came aboard with signed orders from Admiral Caine of First Fleet authorizing his being aboard the ship to document how a starship operates.   Morale stuff…it would appear.”

 

“Not the answer I wanted to hear, but….OK.    Let’s find out what Mr. Gorgolu has to say for himself.”  As VanHorne allowed the security team to force the door open unannounced, the Admiral flipped open his communicator,

 

“VanHorne to O’Dag.  Let’s stop messing around with parasites like Gideon Wolfe, and get this ship moving.”

 

K’rilish was the first to enter.  He had a flashlight in his paw that she shone toward the top bunk where he know Gorgolu would be sleeping.   Each assigned berth aboard the ship was an assigned sleeping bunk.   He had checked the information ahead of time to make sure that he was going to grab the right crewman. 

 

The Ablesman lifted his head from his pillow with a start, his sleep ridden eyes widening with the jolt of adrenaline that shot through his body.   As a precaution, Lieutenant Fernandez secured the remainder of the room, her eyes glaring a warning at the other crewman in the lower bunk. 

 

            “What the…?” Gorgolu called out. 

 

            Without a warning, K’rilish walked over to the bunk and he grabbed Gorgolu by the back of his neck.  He pulled him from the bunk as if he were nothing more than a child’s toy doll.   Legs and arms flailed wildly as K’rilish deposited the bewildered man onto the deck with a loud thump.  There was no carpeting in this section of the ship to muffle the impact. 

 

            Taking the PADD with the altered orders from Gorgolu for the stress test, K’rilish dropped it onto the man’s chest.   The evidence was damning. 

 

            “Under protocol 49.09, subsection B, you are being detained for questioning, Ablesman Gorgolu.” K’rilish said.  “If you wish to confess to any illegal acts of sabotage it is your right to do so, or to request legal representation and the right of silence as is your right as a Federation citizen.  How do you want it?”

 

            “Of course I did it!” Gorgolu yelled.  He stared wild eyed at K’rilish.   “I did it for the Optimum Movement!  If anything, I was hoping to destroy the shining example that Starfleet has held this ship up, too!  I’ll do it again and next time, I will destroy this ship!”

 

            “That is not going to happen, Gorgolu,” Van Horne said.  “You are a fool, and you are done here.”

 

            K’rilish reached for the manacles he had brought with him.  He picked Gorgolu off of the floor and he spun him around.  He then slammed him against the edge of the bunk so he could put the manacles on.  It was taking all of his effort not to hurt the man, and given him a reason to avoid a proper trial.

 

            “I need to get dressed first!” Gorgolu protested.  “All that I am wearing is my boxers!”

 

            “You’re not wearing the uniform,” Fernandez said from behind.  “We will find you some civilian coveralls once you are in the brig.”

 

            “Wait!” Vril called out.  He approached the doorway and he let out a snicker.  He pointed at Gorgolu’s boxes.  “He is wearing boxers with the logo of the Irish Defender’s Force!”

 

            “The what?” Fernandez asked.  She looked at Vril as if he had gone crazy.

 

            “The Irish Defenders Force is a water volley ball team in Dublin,” Vril said.  “I didn’t know they sold boxers supporting their team.”

 

            Gorgolu scowled.  “Water volley bowl is an underrated spor…”

 

            “Enough of this nonsense!” K’rilish interrupted.    He shot Vril an annoyed stare. 

 

            Once K’rilish had Gorgolu’s hands secured, he pushed the man out into the corridor.   Barefoot and half-naked, the ablesman’s eyes squinted under the bright lighting.  Defiance turned to embarrassment. 

 

            K’rilish looked to Van Horne who was glaring at the crewman with disappointment and anger.    “With your regards, Admiral.  I would like to assist in processing this prisoner and ensuring that he is quickly removed from the ship.  There will be need to be a preliminary investigation, but now that we have a confession it can be conducted while we are underway.”

 

            “Yes,” Van Horne said.  His voice was a near whisper.  “Get this man out of my site.”

 

  



	46. ACT TWO part 22C

Sto-Vo-Kor Act Two Part 22C  
  
The Chateau, Lake Placid, Earth  
  
Leave+ 8 hours  
  
Savion fell back on the couch with a sigh. He tugged at the collar of black suit – called a "tuxedo" a little bit. He had to admit it was a classy outfit and even Kitane looked quite smart in one. T'Val now... mother of all warp core breaches... she was a KNOCKOUT. If he hadn't seen her with Kitane as his witness, he would have sworn that he was hallucinating - he'd never seen her in anything but a Starfleet uniform. Today, he would have sworn he'd seen an angel. With himself on one side and Kitane on the other, the three of them made an entrance to the dining room that caused an instant stop in the conversation of the other guests already there. Her dress was an off-one-shoulder design, with the floor length skirt a cascade of ruffles that was reminiscent of undulating tendrils of sea-foam on a beach and the blue colour of the dress matched her eyes. There was a matching ruffle across the top of the right shoulder where the dress did go to. She had pulled her hair back and bunched it into a long clip behind her head, and allowed it to do a loose fall across her upper back. Pulling her hair back set off her elegantly shaped eyebrows and ears. He didn't think he'd ever seen a Vulcan woman wear anything so Terran.*  
  
The impact of the Starfleet officers arrival soon lessened though, as the other guests of the Chateau recovered from the clearly unexpected stylish entrance and returned to their meals. Before long, the first tentative questions came their way. Some could be answered, others could not, because of the nature of the queries. Most of the other guests, who had been on the grounds with their various recreations, saw the shuttle come in and depart, so they knew that the new arrivals were Starfleet – and they were curious. Jeeves stepped in that point, asking the other guests to refrain from too many question as the Starfleet officers had requested a certain amount of privacy as they were there to relax. The officers did manage to avoid identifying themselves and their ship – thanks mostly to T'Val, who garnered the majority of the attention and thus could deflect the enquiries in her own way, but the Bonaventure was apparently still a newsworthy subject in the planetary media. Some of the conversation regarding Starfleet were at times bizarre mixed with out-of-context comments and speculation on the reasons of the wrecked condition that the old Bonaventure returned to Earth with. Even the civil suit launched by T'Val's former bond mate Sopar was known enough about to be a topic of interest. Savion was quietly thankful that their identities were not known; he could only wonder what kind of questioning they would have been subjected to if the other guests had realized that they had in fact the central figures of the suit sitting with them right there.  
  
After the meal, they had taken a stroll through the Chateau. Savion suspected that T'Val was quite taken with the gown she was wearing and how it moved. The only comment she made that would have fallen in the negative column was 'how Human women could subject themselves to the high-heeled shoes that this type of attire seemed to require.' For the first time, Savion wondered how T'Val DID look in heels, even though the rather voluminous skirt prevented any real view of the shoes she wore. He tried to shake the mental image from his head, even though it didn't really work, so he just gave up to wonder.  
  
During the tour through the Chateau, T'Val would sometimes put her arms through Kitane's, and other times through his, not really favouring either of her companions. During the times she held his arm, it made him feel kind of giddy inside; what was it about this level of elegance that seemed to promote this kind of behaviour?  
  
Finally, the other guests retired for the night and Savion was left with his friends in one of the lounges. He was feeling full from the wonderful hand-prepared meal and truth be told... the day was rapidly catching up with him. Oh, heck. The last three weeks were catching up with him! He stretched his arms and suppressed a yawn, but it was noticed. T'Val came over, the skirts of the dress making a soft 'swishing' sound as she walked. She stretched out a hand to him.  
  
"Come, Kerov-ahm, I know you are exhausted. It is time for you to retire for the evening."  
  
He was too tired to disagree so he took her offered hand and she easily pulled him up off the couch. "Thanks, T'Val. I have to say that the conversations during the meal were most illuminating."  
  
"They were indeed, brother." Kitane said as he came up to them. "Such an amazing collection of half truths and outright speculation. Is this how news is presented on this planet?"  
  
"Don't ask me, old friend - this is my first time on Earth! But it sure looks that way – I'm not sure I like it."  
  
They all walked back up to their third floor rooms. They'd noted that the other guests had retired to the other wing on the second floor. "I wonder why that is?" Kitane commented on that observation.  
  
Very shortly, they reached Kitane's room. Kitane opened the door and turned to his friends. "Good night, brother, sister. I hope you sleep well. I'll see you later tomorrow." Savion replied, "Good night, old friend. Sleep well!"  
  
T'Val put her arms through Savion's again. "I will see you to your room, Kerov-ahm." Savion raised an eyebrow and he hoped he had a smooth reply for her, that somehow came out as "Uh, sure. I'd like that." He winced inside. What the hell was that? Real smooth...  
  
He opened the door and offered T'Val to proceed him and she accepted the invitation. Inside, the room was lit only by the fireplace as the large windows were already curtained. Even the four-post bed had three of it's curtains were drawn already. On the bed were a set of pyjamas, clearly intended to be worn to bed.  
  


"May I assist you, Kerov-ahm?" T'Val asked. Brilliantly, he said "What?" and he envisioned his brain slapping his mouth. Another smooth move.... "Your jacket, do you need assistance?" He decided to attempt to salvage what was left his dignity and accept the offer. She helped him slip the jacket off; it was remarkably more form-fitting than it appeared, but she eased it off his shoulders quickly. She lay it across the chair where hours ago, he put his uniform on, now gone. She turned to him again.  
  
"I will retire for the night myself, Kerov-ahm. I trust you will sleep well."  
  
He gave her a smile, if a tired one. "I will indeed, T'Val, thank you. May I say that you look absolutely stunning tonight. That dress looks fantastic on you."  
  
"Thank you, Kerov-ahm." She suddenly looked down and then back up again. "It is unlike anything I have ever worn before."

"Trust me, you look great. You had all of the other male guests staring. I know; it's not logical." He smiled again. "but that is the entire point of that dress." He winked at her.  
  
"Fascinating." She said.  
  
"May I see you to the door, T'Val?" he asked her and she raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I can see the door quite clearly from here, Kerov-ahm."  
  
Before she could let him respond to her comment, she turned her back to him and moved her hair aside. "I require some assistance with this dress. The fastening is out of my reach." He reached over to the fastening – a zipper, of all things. He pulled it down as far as it would go. T'Val held the bodice of the dress to her and she moved to the terminal, where she started to type something out.  
  
"T'Val...?" He asked her. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Setting a privacy period, t'hy'la." She finished typing and came back to him. As she came only steps away from Savion, she pulled the shoulder of the dress off and let the dress drop to the floor. She carefully stepped out of the dress and came closer. "I believe no one will disturb this room for hours now." She murmured just before she put her arms around his shoulders and kissed him gently. Again, time seemed to stop under her touch and before he knew it, he was no longer in his tuxedo and they were under the covers of the large bed, where T'Val pulled the last curtain shut. The lights began to dim and before too long, they were sharing a much more intimate moment.  
  
8AM local time, Leave + 15.5 hours  
  
Savion felt himself coming awake; sounds and the light of the day intruded into his pleasant dream and sleep. He dreamt he was enjoying T'Val's company in a most intimate way.. he felt himself smiling and as he became more aware of his surroundings, he was aware of some pressure on his body along one side. He took a deep breath and re-entered the world, which was a four-walled set of curtains. And the pressure on his side... he turned his head and got a face full of hair, which he didn't expect... and then memory returned.... that was no dream! T'Val was pressed up to his side and his motions clearly disturbed her own slumber. She moved, stretched and put an arm across his chest. She also took a deep breath and looked up into his face. A small smile grew on her lips and she put her head down on his chest.  
  
"I have been wanting this for some time." She said. "No pressure, no hurry – and private." She moved her arm and ran her fingers on his chest. "There will be time for discretion when we return to the ship." She suddenly pushed herself up swung one leg around – the blankets swirled and suddenly she was straddling him high on his waist, and put her hands on his shoulders, looking down at him. "It is logical."  
  
"I'm hardly in a position to disagree." - it was the only thing he could think to say. She continued to smile and lowered her upper body on his.  
  


It was several more hours before they left his room for the day.  
  
Leave + 26 hours  
  
The evening meal was much more enjoyable this time around. Dressing was less formal; Savion wore a suit of a cut that was considered fashionable for the time; Kitane found a Tellarite- inspired set of clothes that not only fit, they allowed him to move freely. T'Val chose another Terran designed dress. Form fitting, the top of the black dress had a deep V front and back, but it came with a stylish short jacket. The skirt was floor length, smooth and had a deep slit up one leg. Savion was sure she chose it to deflect attention from the three of them as a whole and it did seem to work like the previous night's stunning outfit.  
  
About half of the current guests present from the previous night were gone; Savion recognized the ones who remained; a couple of professors and several specialists in archaeology. They confided that they were due to ship out themselves to several off-world locations, the names of which he personally had not heard of. One of the professors had been eyeing the officers for a bit and eventually worked up enough courage to comment that he was sure he had seen them all before somewhere. Savion and Kitane professed innocence and offered that the professor must be mixing them up with someone else, saying that they had encountered this mistaken identity before. T'Val, of course, simply stated that the professor must be mistaken.  
  


They were asked if they had been to the 'quaint, rustic village' just a little way past the boundaries of the estate near the Chateau. All three stated that they had not. "Oh, you MUST! Antiques and vintage shops, several art galleries and a WONDERFUL tavern called 'The Frozen Moon'. The owner is reputed to also be a fortuneteller."  
  
"We still have most of another day before we have to return to our ship." Savion said. "I think we will check it out first thing tomorrow."  
  
Leave + 32 hours  
  
"You know, we should be getting some sleep, T'Val."  
  
"You can have a nap on the way back to the ship, t'hy'la."  
  
Savion rolled over onto his side. He gently brushed T'Val's hair from in front of her face. "This leave has been amazing. You're amazing. I don't know what I would do without you."  
  
T'Val looked back at Savion in the dim light. "Is something bothering you, Kerov-ahm?"  
  
"Well... yes. The lawsuit." T'Val brought up one of her hands and put her fingertips across his lips.  
  
"Sopar cannot force me to return to Vulcan to become his wife, t'hy'la. The suit violates my rights as a free citizen of the Federation and I cannot be treated as chattel to a marriage that has not occurred. The fact that the bond is broken also means I am free to make my own choice. If you and I can...." she suddenly looked down, and then back up him again. "If we can form a bond between us, no Vulcan court will recognize the bond that used to exist between Sopar and I. I already have testimony on our return to Spacedock that the bond was indeed broken. It is to be entered as evidence, if the suit goes to trial."  
  
"Can there be.. a you and I, together?"  
  
T'Val ran her hand along Savion's face and moved to press her body closer to his. "It is possible. There is already precedent not only with Sarek and Amanda, but with several hundred recorded Human/Vulcan couples. While we are not required to form a mental bond, having one will go far to invalidate Sopar's suit. It will take commitment and the desire to be able to bond and I have pondered this very possibility myself."  
  
Savion reached out with a hand to gently take the one she just used on him. "You said not long ago that if I wanted to know you better, all I needed was the courage to ask." He brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed the back of her hand. "I am asking you now, my love. Help me to get to know you better."  
  
"We need to sit." T'Val pushed herself up and swung her legs into a crossed position and she waited till Savion did the same. She brought up a hand and paused before she put her fingers on his face. "We must meld, but I will join with you more deeply than I have ever attempted with you. You must be sure."  
  


Savion looked steadily into her eyes. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life." She brought her fingers to his face and he closed his eyes.  
  
"Your thoughts to my thoughts." She whispered. "Your mind to.."  
  
"...my mind" he finished quietly. T'Val concentrated and changed the position of her fingers for the correct pressure points. She felt his mind and she brought herself closer to that presence. Savion felt at first the pressure of her fingers and then there was a growing presence in his mind and felt thoughts that were not his own. The structured thoughts from her were intricate and finely tuned.  
  
T'Val sensed the ebb and flow of this thoughts; while somewhat organized, there were strong undercurrents of emotion that flowed around those thoughts. She had probed the edges of his consciousness before; admittedly while he was sleeping and unaware of her presence. In both of their mind's eye, they met as manifestations of their physical forms – He reached out to her and T'Val reached back to him. Their hands met, touched and ghostly fingers locked together. They drew themselves to the other – he released her fingers and put his arms around her to hug her. His feelings were strong and she could feel that his strongest emotions surged; Love, certainly – but also pain, hurt and loss that were deeply rooted within him. To his credit, he struggled to control those but she knew that he needed help. Concentrating harder, she sent waves of calmness towards him and he responded... those feelings receded, leaving him with the love he felt for her, deep and strong. For her part, she brought forth the memories of the night following the loss of the old Bonaventure and she had watched him as he slept in her bed. The memories of how she struggled to sort out why she felt the way she did and the realization when the seemingly unrelated pieces of their relationship came into order when she realized that Sopar (a stubborn pale ghost of a memory, frowning disapprovingly off to one side) could not and would not ever know her the way Savion knew her. Without being aware of it, he had set her free from a life that offered no joy, no love – and no hope. She let her love flow around him and he looked back with wonderment in his face. She probed more deeply into his mind in order to find the markers that would allow her to establish the bond.  
  
The Human mind was not as structured as the Vulcan mind was; it was in a way.. simpler, but more primal as well. Humans were indeed ruled by their emotions and passions; but many learned to focus and turn those traits into ways that ultimately led them to seek the very starts themselves. Finding the points she needed, she sent her thoughts into them; in the outside world, Savion briefly caught his breath and slowly relaxed. She had to repeat that process three more times, into different spots.  
  
In the link of the mind-meld, she 'spoke' for the first time - "We are linked, my love. We must return to our own places and you will know." Savion nodded and reluctantly released her image. They stood facing each other and then to her, his image retreated rapidly as she brought the meld to a close. She was suddenly aware of the air around her, the breath in her lungs. Savion took a large gasp of air and his eyes opened. She retreated fully into her own body and allowed her fingers to drop away from his face.  
  
"How do you feel?" she asked him.  
  
He continued to look in one direction and not at her. He suddenly let his breath out as he'd been holding it since they retreated back into themselves. "I... I'm not sure." he said. "It's... like I have something in my head that isn't me or mine." He looked at her. "Is this what it's like? To be aware of someone else?"  
  
She took his hand. "Yes, it is, at first. Right now, what you are feeling is new and you are not used to it. Perhaps now would be a good time to rest after all. Relax and let the bond take strength." She lay down and sent a thought to him to do the same.  
  
"I felt that!" he exclaimed. "Remarkable....!" But he lay down as well. She turned her back and pressed herself into him. She pulled one of his arms around her waist and he worked the other arm underneath her. "Spooning" came the return thought. An image of spoons stacked together followed the thought and it made perfect sense.  
  
"Sleep now, t'hy'la." she said. "Tomorrow is a new day."  
  
  



	47. ACT TWO part 22D--"48 Hours Finis"

Sto-Vo-Kor Act Two Part 22D "48 Hours: Finis"  
  
The Chateau, Lake Placid, Earth  
  
Leave +39 hours (7:30 AM local)  
  
The sun hadn't quite broken the horizon when he woke up, an alarm sounding gently. He looked around and found that he was alone and T'Val's dress was gone as well – clearly she had returned to her own room. He remembered that they were going to visit the 'quaint rustic village' today and they only had 9 hours left in their leave. He got up, tended to various needs and chose some clothing suitable for being outside. The terminal showed it was a nippy -12C this early in the morning, but the day promised to be glorious. He noted that his uniform was hanging on a hook on the wall; he was grateful to have it back. He slipped his personal items back into his tote and made sure that the PADD was still tucked into the tote's sleeve. Satisfied, he left his room and made his way down to the dining room, where Kitane was enjoying some breakfast. He grinned when he saw Savion.  
  
"I hope you are feeling more relaxed, brother! I am enjoying the time off immensely!"  
  
"I am, old friend! I haven't felt this relaxed in ages." And he started to choose several items available on the dining room's serving table.  
  
"Yes. It's nice to not to worry about being discrete, isn't it?" Kitane chuckled. "I'm sure it was worth every minute."  
  
Savion reached over and put a hand on one of the Tellarite's massive shoulders. "Every minute, every second, old friend. I will not forget these last two days very soon."  
  
"I wonder how long T'Val will be?" Kitane looked at a chronometer set discretely behind the serving table, which displayed 8:05 AM. "And how to get there. We'll lose too much time if we walk."  
  
Savion paused and he felt for the presence of T'Val in his mind. She was there, a happy comforting feeling to him, but he wasn't getting much else from that. "Well, soon, I hope. As soon as I'm done eating, I'll check our options for getting there."  
  
They finished their breakfasts fairly quickly; the fruits were fresh, the oatmeal hot. While there was several different coffees and teas available, Savion decided not to partake of any of those. He utilized one of the terminals in the main hall to search out this village and ways to get there; keeping in mind the remainder of the time they had left. He found the information he needed and was busy checking out the transportation when he felt something stir in his mind. He looked up towards the stairs to see T'Val descending. He felt a flash of warmth on that sight... being in a relationship was new to him, but the bond she'd established was unlike anything he ever knew. While he watched her descend, he got flashes of view from her eyes, and could see himself looking up at T'Val. It was odd, seeing yourself from someone else's eyes.  
  
"Good morning!" he said as she came close. She smiled slightly and nodded. He could feel her emotional reactions; Vulcans were also very powerful emotionally, but kept in an incredibly tight check. "Breakfast? Kitane's inside and I'm looking at our transportation options."  
  
"I will have something to eat, Kerov-ahm." she said. "This village sounds intriguing." He smiled at her and caught her hand, gently squeezing it. "I'll see you soon, then."  
  


As T'Val entered the dining room, Jeeves appeared out of one of the many doors across the wall opposite the main doors. "Good morning, sir. I trust your stay with us has been satisfactory so far?"  
  
"Fantastic, Jeeves. I've never been in such a lovely place before."  
  
"Yes, our guests do say that. You are returning to your ship later today, are you not?"  
  
"Unfortunately, yes. We'd like to check this village we've heard about last night."  
  
"Ah, yes, of course. If I may, I have some suggestions..."  
  
In the dining room, T'Val chose a selection of fruits and some of the oatmeal. While not a stranger to the selections presented, she had not often had the oatmeal. It's thick consistency put her off for a minute, but it did smell good. She took a bowl of the oatmeal and a plate of fruit and sat across from Kitane, busy with a PADD of his own. He looked up at her.  
  
"So, sister, did everything go according to plan?"  
  
"It did." She tried several spoons of the oatmeal. "You do realize of course that officially, you know nothing of our relationship."  
  
"Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way." Kitane looked out the dining room to Savion and Jeeves talking. "I knew that he would need... a push to see things our way. I'm glad it's working out. He looks happier than I've ever seen him."  
  
"As peculiar as it may sound, I was full with trepidation the first night. The odds were low that he would not accept my advances, but still a possibility."  
  
"The odds were lower than you think, sister. He loves you too much to have turned you down. He's been in love with you for a long time but never had the courage within himself before to face it." Kitane put the PADD down. "The time was right and this leave gave you the opportunity. You both have something rare and precious here - don't throw it away."  
  
T'Val paused, with a strawberry on her fork. "I could not do that. It is without shame that I say I love him as well, even though many of my people would not admit that to anyone outside of our mates." She finished the strawberry, along with several other pieces of fruit. "The partnership of the three of us has grown into more than just an association of colleagues. I trust in you as much as you trust in either of us and I value our friendship."  
  
Kitane nodded. "We have all grown from where we started, sister." He looked quickly out the main hall again. "I would venture to guess that we have transportation."  
  
Savion came back into the dining room smiling. "I have a ride!" he said. "It's being readied right now and the village is only 5 kilometres from the estate. It seems it's a popular place to visit."  
  


"I will be ready in minutes, Kerov-ahm." T'Val said. "I trust there will be adequate gear for the cold?"  
  
10 minutes later.  
  
They looked at the transportation that was arranged. It was a grav-truck, built to hold four passengers and there was a mid-size cargo bed in the rear. While not pristine, it was still clean and well-maintained. The three of them entered the cab. Kitane and T'Val yielded the controls to Savion, who studied them briefly. He noted that the controls were a simplified version of a shuttlecraft, perhaps closer to the Workbees that Starfleet used. A few minutes of experimentation and soon afterwards, the grav-truck was travelling down the plowed road towards the village. T'Val had found a knitted hat that pulled down over her head as well as large matching mittens and she hadn't expected that they'd be so warm. Savion wanted to suggest a scarf but it seemed to be overkill; the day would be warming up to just below freezing. This was a nice day as far as Savion was concerned, and probably was for Kitane as well, but he could appreciate that anything below 30C was probably on the cool side for T'Val.  
  
They reached the village before long and Savion parked the truck where he had been instructed to leave it. They got out to inspect the village, apparently just coming to life itself. The buildings were a collection of different styles that covered a rather large cross-section of history in this part of the world, from the rough-hewn boards of the 1800's, to poured concrete that was in vogue in the last half of the 20th Century.  
  
Most of the shops offered art pieces from many cultures across history and even a few off-world art pieces. Being a Starfleet officer, most "art" that considerable acceptable aboard ship was more restrictive and would not allow the larger pieces for sale in these shops. The antique shops were exactly what he expected: artifacts from hundreds of years ago to even 40-50 years ago; truly a collection of diverse items Again, he politely refused the attempts to sell him items, although frankly, there was little that truly interested him. One thing that did catch his eye was the selections of various semi-precious gemstones. The turquoise in particular for some reason looked interesting enough to purchase a small stone that could be worn around the neck. He tucked the purchase into one of his pockets, to make sure it would be remembered when he changed later.  
  
They had lunch at The Frozen Moon tavern; a wooden building built as it would have been 200 years previously. The woods were rich in colour and there was a large range of smells within. Most he couldn't identify other than various foods and what he assumed (correctly) to be various alcohols. The owner of the place, an ancient looking Native American woman named Catherine Fey Bearfoot was behind the long counter when they walked in. To Savion, she seemed to be carved out some sort of living wood – she had sharp features and her face was lined with many years of living. She took their orders and disappeared for a bit, leaving the trio to look around the interior. Aside from the choice of building materials and the Native art that decorated the place, it was essentially the same kind of establishment that could be found on hundreds of worlds. Several elderly Native Americans occupied several of the booths further back and they undoubtedly had a good time looking over the Starfleet officers at the counter. Certainly, their conversation was more lively, if quiet, punctuated by gestures towards them and occasional words in a tongue that Savion didn't understand.  
  
For their part, Savion and his friends commented on various parts of the tavern and the stores they'd been in and each of them had made small purchases of various sorts. Their meals were served by Catherine, assisted by a young woman. She looked at Kitane and T'Val with interest; he surmised that she didn't get many off-world visitors. Some laughter in the back caused her to turn towards those tables and she shouted out "Here now, show some respect for paying customers!" The laughter died down and she turned back to the trio. "We don't get many visitors like yourselves here, even during the height of the season. That you three are here now! Interesting, indeed!"  
  
T'Val raised an eyebrow as she sipped her soup; Kitane paused with his sandwich briefly and Savion paused bringing the spoon of chili to his mouth. "How so?" he asked.  
  
"I knew you would be coming today. Human, Vulcan, Tellarite - the joined spirits and the faithful friend; the three who are inseparable."  
  
That stopped their meal right then. [How does she KNOW that?!?!] he wondered to himself. He put his spoon down. "Excuse me?" he asked. "What makes you say that?"  
  
Catherine only smiled. "I know many things." She said. "Past, present and future. I think you might want to know more of the future than your past or present, wouldn't you?"  
  
"You're the fortune teller I heard about at the Chateau!" Savion said. "Are you sure you didn't hear about us from one of the other guests?"  
  
"Maybe. Perhaps not. But even if so..." Catherine leaned forward to Savion - "How would they know you are a joined spirit – and so recently, too. Not enough time for me to be told that!"  
  
Savion forgot all about his lunch and he knew T'Val had as well; he could feel it. "All right. Let's say you're right about that. What about our futures?"  
  
Catherine grinned and brought out from behind the counter three items and placed them in front of them. "Take one. Hold it for a minute and then return it to me."  
  
The items looked like carved images of sorts made from some type of stone. He reached out towards one, and then moved his hand to pick up the owl carving. He held it for one minute, then dropped it into her waiting hand. She closed her hand on it and used her fingers to roll it around. She put the owl aside from the remaining stones and held out her hands to Savion's hands. "Give me your hand." she said. He offered his left hand to her and she wrapped her hands around his. She took interest in the now-healed injury that resulted in a shortened finger. Finally, she stopped. "Soon," she said and turned to T'Val and she repeated her directions for her and then Kitane.

"You will all be tested in the coming days, weeks. You will be travelling very far, further than you have gone before – no, wait.. you have already done that." She paused for a moment. "There will be danger for you all and there will be conflict between you, IF you forget who you are." She paused again and looked towards Savion and she had a strange, far-off look in her eyes. "You will be tested most of all. Six times you will be tested – the first three within and then three times without." Her voice dropped and she said sadly "The dark clouds on your horizon obscures your future. I cannot see the outcome."  
  
She looked up at them again. "One last thing you must remember: beware the wolf - he is not your friend. Do not heed his words and the web of deceit he weaves else you will fall." She stopped and then blinked- she lost the far off look she had just moments previously. She looked at the stone carvings off to one side and looked puzzled. "Why those? I haven't used them for...." She stopped and then looked back at the officers. "I cannot say more. Please, enjoy your meal -it's on the house. If you will excuse me..." She hurried off towards the back table, leaving the trio wondering just what had happened. Savion looked at his half-finished meal, no longer hungry.  
  
"You know, I think we should return to the Chateau and get ready to get back to the ship." T'Val nodded and Kitane agreed with that statement.  
  
"A pity." Kitane said. "I was looking forward to trying some of the drinks I can smell." He put the remains of his sandwich down and got off the stool. In spite of Catherine insisting on their meals being free, he put a handful of the local coins on the counter for the meal. They left the tavern in silence and headed back to the grav-truck.  
  
Leave +46.5 hours  
  
"Relax, will you??" Savion thought it was odd that HE was the one saying this. Just days ago, his friends told him that as he was worrying about taking the Bonaventure from Mars to Earth. Kitane had a case of the fidgets as he walked around the front hall of the Chateau. Savion had already tended to their stay there – the PADD contained a code from the Captain – his credit number, which the Captain gave Savion for this time off for the three of them. It also included some directions on what it could be used for, and as a result, along with the three totes sitting in the Hall, there was a portable rack which held garment bags – each of them had the fancy outfits they wore on their first night here. Savion had to admit he looked forward to seeing T'Val in that stunning dress again sometime. Imagine the stir she'd cause aboard a ship function with that dress!  
  
"The shuttle will be returning to pick us up within minutes." T'Val said. "Unlike the multiple shuttles we took to get here, one of the ship's shuttles will be picking us up and we will return to the ship directly." T'Val sat in one of the many chairs in the hall. Kitane continued to pace and Savion stood by the window, looking for the shuttle's arrival. All three were now in their uniforms and only a few of the other guests passed through while the trio waited. Jeeves came out from the dining room and headed to Savion. He spoke with him for a few minutes and then bowing slightly, departed. Savion came over to his friends. "We're going to be a bit delayed, I'm afraid." he told them. "On the way back. We have to divert to pick up some sort of classified shipment, but we've been assured that it will only add no more than ten more minutes to get back to the ship."  
  
"Our return time will be close to the time we are required to be on duty, Kerov-ahm." T'Val said. "I trust that this information is known to the Captain?"  
  
"I hope so, T'Val. I'll talk to the shuttle pilot about that when they get here. And speaking of which – I think I hear the shuttle on approach!" he hurried back to the window. "Yep! It's time to leave!" As they gathered their totes and garment bags, Jeeves hurried out of the dining room again before they got to the door. "Commander, Lieutenants, please accept our thanks for your visit here. Would you relay to Captain O'Dag that we look forward to his arrival here someday?"  
  
"I certainly will, Jeeves, and thanks for the lovely time here. I think I speak for all of us when I say I'd like to come back here again." Savion grinned. "Duty awaits!" Jeeves opened the door and let the Starfleet officers leave before him. He followed them on the large patio and stood at the top of th stairs where he watched them board the shuttle. The two professors from last night were off to one side, watching the proceedings with interest and they also watched the shuttle lift, turn and then arc high into the sky.  
  
"Did you see the name of the ship on that shuttle?" one of them asked the other.  
  
"No, I didn't." the other said. "Did you?"  
  
"Yes, I did. It's from the Bonaventure."  
  
"The hell you say! That means that the Vulcan was T'Val, of that legal suit. You were right!"  
  
"Yes, so that most likely means the Human with her must have been Savion." They both paused, and the first professor spoke. "He wasn't anything like what the reporters have been saying he's like. I guess we'll never know for sure now."  
  
\--- En route to the Bonaventure ---  
  
"What do you mean, there's a communications blackout? We can't contact the ship?"  
  
"I'm sorry sir, no, except for priority signals. We have to hurry to pick up the cargo and then get back. We're leaving orbit within the hour, I believe."  
  
"Damn." Savion slumped his shoulders. "It's going to be tight."  
  
"Sorry, sir." the pilot said apologetically. "I have my orders."  
  
"I know, it's not your fault. Let me know if you can get a message out, if possible." Savion returned to his seat. "Communications blacked out to the ship. We can't get a message there and I have no idea why there's a blackout to begin with. I just hope that the diversion takes as little time as we've been told."  
  
\--- Spacedock Shuttle bay 24 ---  
  
"Hurry up with that, will you?"  
  
"Hang on, it won't lock down properly!"  
  
The dock specialists fought with an oddly-shaped cargo container in the rear of the shuttle's compartment. Savion could do nothing but fret while the techs fastened the load to the shuttle's floor. After what felt like an interminable wait, the load was locked down, the techs left and the shuttle's rear door closed. The pilot had to wait another minute to get clearance, but to his credit, he smoothly accelerated the shuttle on launch, deftly manoeuvred around the Spacedock traffic and headed straight for the Bonaventure's mooring buoy location. Savion looked at the shuttle's chronometer - they were going to be late and he had a meeting to attend. No time to even drop his tote and bag back at his quarters. T'Val put a calming hand on his forearm.  
  
"I will make sure your bags get to your quarters, Kerov-ahm. Get to your meeting when we land."  
  
"Thanks, T'Val. Damn, my first big officer's meeting and I'm going to be late."  
  
"I'm sure it will be all right, Kerov-ahm. It couldn't be helped." She slipped her hand into his briefly. "Relax. I am with you now."  
  
Her assurances helped, he realized, but he couldn't help but watch the approach to the Bonaventure. She was like a glittering jewel in the backdrop of space, growing larger every second. Final approach and.... they landed, behind schedule. The diversion cost them nearly half an hour instead of the 10 minutes expected. He hurried out the shuttle with hardly a 'bye' to his friends, but they understood. Running to the turbolift, he entered it. "Deck B! Priority!"  
  
The lift moved swiftly into the ship and soon it stopped on Deck B, where the officers were already meeting. He reached the briefing room, pressed the door button and entered.  
  



	48. ACT TWO part 26

USS Bonaventure, NCC 1745-A

Stationary Earth Orbit

Deck H – Airlock

Stardate [February 4th, 2300 – Time:  0600-Z]

OFF: 

 

“Just sign here, Commander, and we will be on our way.”

 

            K’rilish took the PADD that the Federation marshal had handed to him.   A few feet away former ablesman Gorgolu watched with a dour face as K’rilish signed off on his custody.  

 

            “Thank you, Commander,” the squared jaw marshal said.  He took a look at the tan jumpsuit that Gorgolu was wearing.  It was two sizes too small and the bottoms were halfway up to his shins.   To further his new attire, he was also wearing Starfleet issue flip flops.  

 

            Yellow flip flops.

 

            “He..uhh..didn’t have his own personal clothing aboard ship?” the marshal asked. 

 

            “I destroyed his clothing on the grounds of security reasons,” K’rilish said.  He gave a smile.  “You can never be sure about hidden explosives.”

 

            “What about personal effects?” the marshal asked. 

 

            “I had a diary!” Gorgolu called out.  “Isn’t that a violation of my privacy?”

 

            K’rilish pulled the diary from the pocket of his duty trousers.  He tossed it at the marshal.   “There’s nothing there except crude sketches of nude oil paintings from a trip he took to the San Francisco art museum, and lousy poetry.” 

 

            “There might be hidden code in there,” the marshal said.  He opened the diary and he looked at one of the sketches.  “You’re right…these are terrible, but I will have our technicians scan them just the same.   If there isn’t anything else we will be on our way, Commander.   You have yourself a good day.”

 

            K’rilish gave a respectful nod as the marshal escorted Gorgolu into the waiting travel pod.   Two heavily armed marshals were waiting to ensure that the Optimum agent was not going to pull any tricks.   Like the other imprisoned members of the Optimum Movement, Gorgolu’s days of privacy and freedom were going to be extremely limited. 

 

            Standing aside to let a crewman cycle the airlock, K’rilish watched the travel pod depart.    He heard the familiar footstep of Luther Stahl approaching from behind and the soft scrape of his left boot heal as he dragged it across the deck. 

 

            “I guess that is the end of that.” 

 

            “No, it isn’t,” K’rilish replied.  He looked at Luther, his eyes blazing with renewed anger.  “You have an Ensign Chatham to put on report, Lieutenant.   He is the deck officer of the forward torpedo room who initiated the stress test.  I want him off this ship before it departs.”

 

            “Don’t you think we should just give him a verbal reprimand and let it rest?” Luther asked.  “He was responding to what he thought was…”

 

            K’rilish cut Luther off in mid-sentence.  “Ensign Chatham was informed of the stress test by Lieutenant Fernandez.  Gorgolu sent him a message informing him that the stress test was moved forward.   An _ablseman_ , Lieutenant, told a deck officer that there was a scheduling change and the deck officer failed to ask why, or to check with his next superior.  We cannot abide incompetence aboard this ship especially now that it is a flag ship.”

 

            Luther’s temper was rising, that fatal flaw that K’rilish knew all too well.   He kept his eyes locked with Luther’s while he let the man put his inner demon under control. 

 

            “Fine,” Luther said at last.  “I’ll beach Ensign Chatham.  Just so you know, he’ll never make another ship of the line with such a mark on his record especially form a commander.”

 

            “I don’t care,” K’rilish answered with a growl in his voice.  “Ensign Chatham knew the rules.  As far I am concerned, he made his bed and he can lie in it.  He wasn’t the one on the bridge who had to accept responsibility for his mistake.” 

 

            “I see.   Does that you are going to cashier me if I forget to dot an eye on a report, Commander?” Luther shot back. 

 

            The gull of the man.  K’rilish tensed in response to the comment, but he had long learned to control his temper unlike Luther.  

 

            “I’m going to need you help run the security department, Luther,” K’rilish said in an even voice.  “I believe that you can do it, but if you want an answer to your question, I will give you one.  If you mess up through carelessness, or embarrass this ship and its crew in any way, I won’t send you back to that ice shack on Antarctica.  I will send you to the coldest planet in the Federation that will make you long for that place as if it were a resort on Risa.  Do I make myself clear?”   

 

            Luther’s eyes blazed at the threat, but he knew better.  He drew his head up and he stiffened to attention.  “Yes, _Sir_.  I understand you loud and clear.”

 

            “No you don’t,” K’rilish said.  “When you’re done with Ensign Chatham, I want you to get with Lieutenant Fernandez.  She is now in charge of Admiral Van Horne’s security detail.  Make sure she has her candidates selected before we ship out.”

 

            “I know about General Order Fifteen,” said Luther.  “Mind if I ask why the urgency?” 

 

            “Like you, Admiral Van Horne may not believe the importance of what a flag ship means to the fleet,” K’rilish said.  “I fear that he still thinks he is a captain and entitled to the liberties of one.  It’s going to be our job to make sure he doesn’t killed thinking that way.”

 

            Luther seemed lost in thought for a moment.   “We must be going somewhere bad,” he said.

 

            K’rilish did not answer.

  



	49. ACT TWO part 27

**USS Bonaventure, NCC 1745-A**

**Stationary Earth Orbit**

**Deck B – Briefing Room 1**

**Stardate [February 4th, 2300 – Time:  0630-Z]**

 

______________________________________

 

 

"Captain on Deck!" pipped Yeoman Park. 

 

Conversations died down as Captain Jexe O'Dag walked into Briefing Room 1. Across the chamber's authentic berber carpet Senior Department heads, their Assistants and invited guest came to both attention and a pause in their discussions. Even the symphonic channels of music, Chopin's Nocturnes, faded down to silence.

 

The words, "As you were," proceeded the new Captain as he paused at one end of the Conference table. At the other end stood Admiral VanHorne. The Flag Officer stood silhouetted by the room's Aft bay windows by the same star that had take the original USS Bonaventure only months ago. With a simple nod he acknowledged his former First Officer to continue. 

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen please be seated," announced the Titan. Chairs slide against new carpet as the personnel made themselves comfortable. PADDS were laid across the lacquered table top, some next to steaming mugs of coffee, or carafes of water from Icelandic aquifers. Taking his seat last Jexe raised his head to begin, then paused. Tilting an ear to the side he turned towards the room's doors expectantly. The doors parted, allowing Lt. Commander Savion to breathlessly enter. Mindful of the eyes upon him the CE took his seat between Lt. Commander Karen Patterson on his left, and her sister Ensign Cassandra Patterson on his right. Karen passed him a PADD and discretely whispered three words, "Updates and statuses." 

 

Jexe waited until the commotion had drawn down and the room's attention was focused on him. Behind him Yeoman Park stood with her hands behind her back, spine straight as sunlight. Pressing a button on the table's console Jexe prompted the briefing log to begin. 

 

"Right," said the CO. "Let's get started." His hands folded on the table in front of him. "First I'd like to thank all of the Department Heads, their Assistants and their staff for a job well done. As of now we've finished all loading operations and preparations for departure. The Bonaventure will be disembarking within the hour." 

 

Ensign Vril began the round of applause which was taken up by the rest of the Officers and guest. Jexe nodded, equally pleased and satisfied that the first stage of their mission was complete. 

 

"Second ... " He turned to Commander K'rilish who sat immediately on his right. The Officers settled down. "I'd like to formally announce and acknowledge my decision to promote Commander K'rilish as my First Officer, and the Bonnie's new XO, Tactical Officer and Head of Security!" 

 

This time it was Renn's turn to clap. The Science Officer immediately came to his feet with undisguised excitement. 

 

"Yes!" shouted the Bolian. "Well done!" Others joined him in a standing ovation and soon a small mob surrounded the Caitian with good-natured back slaps and hand shakes. VanHorne was the last to do so and as he made his way back to his seat he caught Jexe's eyes and made a subtle spinning motion with his index finger. The CO got the drift -- time to speed things up. Taking their seats Jexe once more commanded their attention. 

 

"Rather then taking up time with promotion announcements and new department heads, I'll leave that for tonight during the formal Captain's dinner which you are all invited. For now ... to business." 

 

Seconds passes as the group settled back into their chairs. Taking a breath Jexe continued.

 

"Two days ago an Optimum agent was apprehended on board after engaging in a bit of sabotage." 

 

Looks were exchanged among the Officers as many had heard about the incident.

 

"Ablesmen Gorgolu has been changed with treason and transferred to Federation Marshals. However, his actions has prompted a communications blackout onboard for all crew members. Though his actions resulted in no injuries or damage to the ship it was sent a clear message -- the Optimum forces are still out there and have the capability of disrupting Star Fleet's operation. This has shifted our mission slightly." 

 

He swept his gaze across the room meeting the eyes of all the Officers and guest. 

 

"A new plan has been logged with the station's Operation's Center. Officially we are departing for Mars where we will begin our shakedown cruise and testing. That is our official mission. Unofficially, our efforts will be taken elsewhere."

 

Pausing briefly Jexe leaned back in his chair. 

 

"Due to the nature of our mission group the chain of command will be broken down as the following. Operation of the Bonaventure will fall upon myself and the ship's department heads. Our jobs will be to deliver an operation capable vessel for Admiral VanHorne to use for our mission. The Command Center of the Bonnie will remain on the Bridge, but for this mission the Command Intelligence Center and Auxiliary Bridge located on Deck G will be converted into an Operation Center where Admiral VanHorne will run and coordinate all mission and inter-ship command decisions. All Department Heads will be expected to run a shift in the Operation Center, especially once we enter Klingon space." 

 

Looking down Jexe worked a console menu. The lights in the room dimmed, allowing a holographic map of the Federation and Klingon Empire to hover half a meter above the table. The Sol solar systems was highlighted along with a course heading to the Klingon border and on to the outer colonies of Shriebitz, Dok, and Moldo'Qos. Jexe continued.

 

"The refugees rescued from the Tellarite freighter have painted a grim picture on the outer Klingon colonies. Large swaths of the population are suffering from the same small pox virus that once plagued the earth centuries ago. The Klingon have no cure for the virus and the colonies have been ordered to be razed my the local warlord, General Maskan." 

 

The stellar map dissolved and was replaced by the grim visage of the Klingon general. A vine shaped scar twisted off the corner of the aged warrior's mouth and wormed its way towards his left ear.

 

"Maskan is a legend in the outer worlds. Given their distance from Qo'Nos the colony warlords are afforded a certain level of autonomy. Maskan considers the colonies his own personal kingdom. Ten years ago a small Bird of Prey battle group was sent into the outer worlds to establish an attack base. Maskan faced then with half the number of his own ships. A month later the only surviving vessel from the group tumbled towards the Klingon home world. It was an empty derelict, distinguished by one fact. It was painted from fore to aft in Klingon blood -- the only remains of the warriors sent to face Maskan." 

 

The general's image faded showing the stellar map once again.

 

"The virus plaguing the colonies is a cross-humanoid version of the small pox disease, but easily treatable with our technology. Our mission is to make it to the colonies and treat the population before General Maskan arrives, preventing the need to massacre his own people."  

 

Jexe allowed the weight of his words to sink in. 

 

"Once departing we'll be rendezvousing near Mars with the USS Comfort, a Federation medical ship, and the Piedmont, a civilian freighter. Both vessels are high warp capable ships, and under the Command of familiar company." 

 

Working his controls the stellar map was replaced by an Officer's countenance. 

 

"Many of you may have noticed the absence of Dr. Mender after our return to Spacedock. Dr. Mender hasn't retired, as many of you may have heard, but has, in fact, been promoted and awarded the position of Commanding Officer of the USS Comfort." 

 

Surprised reactions circulated about the room. 

 

"The Comfort will be carrying the bulk of our medical supplies and the mission's medical specialist. The Piedmont ... " 

 

A new face replaced Mender's, one that looked vaguely familiar as well. 

 

"... is under the Command of Captain Edward Gutierrez ... Henry Gutierrez's father."  

 

A stern look from Admiral VanHorne kept the surprised reactions to a minimum. 

 

"After the events that lead to the assassination attempt on President Ra'ghoratreii life and the destruction of the our former ship, Captain Gutierrez has volunteered his vessel and crew for this mission. It's his way of making up for Goot's ... involvement with the Optimums. Like Captain Mender, Captain Gutierrez is presently on his own vessel overseeing its mission readiness. However, his First Officer and 2nd Engineer are with us today to help streamline coordination between our two ships." 

 

Jexe gestured to the two men on the far end of the conference table. 

 

"May I present Raymond Escobar, and James Roman." 

 

The Piedmont’s First Officer was a grim looking man with hard, dark eyes, a bald, bullet shaped head and a sand colored moustache, one that stood out against the deep grooves of his tanned skin. The silhouette of a sparrow was tattooed in the span between his left eye and ear. Roman on the the other hand had the dashing good looks of a holo-star, complete with perfect hair and the rugged physique of a man who was no stranger to the gym. Both men nodded to the group. 

 

"Once our ships are underway we'll have our work cut out for us. Mr. Vril ... " 

 

He turned to the Orion Helmsmen four seats down on his right. 

 

"I want you to coordinate a schedule with both the Piedmont and Comfort for high jumps to warp. The shake down cruise of this whip will have to commence as were underway. We need to find the maximum highest warps all three ships can manage for a sustained amount of time."

 

Vril looked down at his PADD and the orders transferred there. He nodded. 

 

"Aye, sir." 

 

"Savion ... " 

 

Jexe turned to the newly promoted Chief of Engineering. 

 

"... I'm afraid you and your department will have your hands full. Aside from overseeing our shakedown I'll need you to assign a team to the Piedmont. Get all of their systems up to maximum efficiency -- engines, shields, sensors, life-support and weapons, and an inventory of their parts and systems. Even though Mr. Roman insist there is little to improve -- " 

 

"She's Perfect, Captain O'Dag," interrupted Roman with a confident look. "The 'Mont's the fastest civilian ship in the Federation."

 

"Aye that. Let's make it the fastest in the Klingon Empire then," replied Jexe. 

 

"Will do. So ... ," said Roman in an over-friendly tone. "Who's the lucky soul who wants to work with me?" 

 

His eyes swept over both the Patterson sisters. Jexe cleared his throat.

 

"Right. Let's move on," quipped the Captain, perhaps too loudly. He shifted in his seat. 

 

"Lt. Maria Levenov is the Assistant Chief Engineer of the Comfort." 

 

This time Jexe looked towards an attractive brunette with sharp Eastern European features. Turning to Savion she openly stared at the CE.

 

"The Comfort is an Olympic Class starship. Lt. Levenov is here to interface our newer systems with theirs." 

 

"I look forward to working with you, Commander," said the Russian Engineer with a heavy accent. 

 

"Commander K'rilish."  

 

Jexe passed his attention to his First Officer. 

 

"Given the destination of our mission a lot will be asked of Security. I'd like you to assemble a team to be assigned to the Piedmont. See what you can do to improve their weapons and defence capabilities. Drill their crew on evacuation procedures, and strategies in the event that they are boarded by hostile forces. Though the Comfort is carrying the bulk of our medical supplies, the Piedmont's cargo includes the six mobile field hospitals, construction material and machines. They're vital to our mission. Lt. Shaz has volunteered to head the team, but I leave that decision to you, Commander." 

 

Outside a Workbee shot by breaking the stream of filtered sunlight illuminating the Briefing Room.  

 

"Given the incident with Mr. Gorgolu we can't rule out another attempt of sabotage. We'll need stationed guards in their cargo areas." 

 

The Caitian's PADD beeped as it registered the new set of orders. 

 

"Owen. I hope you had time to go over the specs sent to us from Envoy Spock and Dr. McCoy?" 

 

"Yes," replied the Chief Science Officer. "And I'm happy to say we've improved the efficiency by fifteen percent. I've even taken the data and applied them to our sensor dish. We won't be apply to detect a cloaked vessel, but its subspace wake may be another matter. Unfortunately, we won't know until we test our finding with a ... (ahem) ... cloaked ship." 

 

"Given where we're going," asked Jexe. "How soon would you know if we encountered one?" 

 

Owen thought for a moment, though his expression showed unease. 

 

"Within half a minute if we're close .... closer than our standard weapon's range I'm afraid. But if we get a successful lock it could aid the modifications to the torpedoes." 

 

Jexe rubbed his chin. 

 

"All right ... keep working on it. When we meet up with the Comfort send your specs over to them so they can make the same upgrades." 

 

"Aye." Owen consulted his PADD, brow furrowed deep in thought. 

 

"Renn?" 

 

The Titan turned to the head of Astrometrics. 

 

"I've analyzed the data from the Tellarite freighter," began the Bolian. "And have picked three ideal spots to cross the Klingon border. The first two are the safest, but will add a full week to our journey. The third takes us within two light years of a Klingon listening station. If we can get by it's a straight shot through to Shriebitz. I've also add information on nebulas, gas giants and asteroid belts along the way. Places we could use to lay low should the need arise." 

 

Jexe looked at the plotted course Renn transmitted from his PADD and to the rest of the Senior Officers. 

 

"Outstanding work, Renn. Admiral ... " said Jexe looking up at VanHorne on the other end of the table. "I'm afraid the decision on our course and heading will be yours when the time comes." 

 

The Flag Officer nodded and immersed himself in the new data.

 

"All right, last item. On our trip to the border Yeoman Park will be conducting mandatory classes on both Klingon culture and conversational Klingon. Much of the populace of the outer worlds are not of the Warrior clans. Many are farmers, artisans, ship builders and miners. Regardless, we will be viewed with suspicion. Cultural understanding and speaking the right word can go a long way in winning trust. We need to make it clear to the Klingons that we're there to help." 

 

Pressing a stud on his console the lights brightened. The holo-viewer winked off. 

 

"Mr. Vril ... the word is given. Head to the Bridge and prepare to disembark. Set course for Utopia Planitia." 

 

"Aye, sir." 

 

Raising to his full height the Orion exited the Briefing Room and headed for the Bridge. Jexe gazed upon the remaining officers. 

 

"Now ... floor's is open for questions." 

 

 

______________________________________

 

**Captain Jexe O'Dag**

**Commanding Officer**

**USS Bonaventure**

**NCC-1745-A**

  



	50. ACT TWO part 28

**USS Bonaventure, NCC 1745-A**

**Stationary Earth Orbit**

**Deck E- “Officer’s Country”**

**Stardate [February 4th, 2300 – Time:  0600-Z]**

 

 

            The morning began with a good workout.   The new recreation department of the Bonaventure included a weight lifting room of which the old Bonaventure could not compare.   After a rigorous warm up and a full hour of squats and leg compressions, K’rilish was ready to begin the day.    He was in a good mood as he left the gymnasium and on the turbo lift ride up to Deck E where the senior officers quarters were located.   In less than a half hour Captain O’Dag was going to lay out the Bonaventure’s upcoming mission and he was looking forward to what lay ahead.    It was time to test the new Bonaventure’s merit as the old salt’s would say. 

 

            Grabbing a coffee from the officer’s dining mess, K’rilish proceeded to his quarters.   Marissa had joined him the night before and upon entering his quarters, he found her already awake.  She was dressed in her nurses duty uniform, and she had finished eating breakfast which consisted of her usual fair of oatmeal and raisins which she preferred from the replicators because they made them lumpy. 

 

            “Good morning,” K’rilish said in what came close to a pleasant sounding voice. 

 

            “A container arrived,” Marissa said without any hesitation.   She pointed at the durasteel box on the floor by the room’s sofa which, in itself, was a luxury item.   “The stardate affixed to the label is over thirty years old.”

 

            K’rilish looked at the container and he tried to keep his surprise in check.   “I told them not to bring it here,” he said.

 

            “It’s from the old Bonaventure isn’t it?” asked Marissa.  

 

            “Yes.  It is my personal items that were collected and placed in cold storage after my disappearance,” K’rilish explained.  He pulled the flap to his tunic as he walked across the room.   “The Starfleet Bureau of Personnel had them placed in storage due to my MIA status, and they were never shipped back to Cait.”

 

            “So it’s like a time capsule,” Marissa added.   She looked at K’rilish as he walked over to the closet.   “You don’t seem terribly interested in opening it.” 

 

            “That’s because I am not,” K’rilish replied.  “Have you seen my duty vests?  I would like to wear one to the meeting that Captain O’Dag has planned.” 

 

            “Check the other side of the closet.  The yeoman just threw everything in there,” Marissa said.   “I can tell by your voice that you are intentionally changing the topic.   What is it about that container that is bothering you, K’rilish?” 

 

            K’rilish pulled out a freshly pressed duty vest.  It was the black and red ones that could be worn in place of the maroon duty jacket.    He could feel Marissa’s eyes peering into his back, probing and inquisitive.  

 

            “It’s the past, Marissa,” K’rilish said in a more subdued voice.  “I should have had it destroyed.   It doesn’t matter anymore.  I’ll have a yeoman come and pick it up and take it down to disposal.” 

 

            Marissa gave a long heavy sigh.  “Fine,” she said.  

 

            It was the kind of sigh that K’rilish knew that the matter was not closed.  He growled internally, and he turned and he looked at Marissa.   “It really doesn’t matter, Marissa.  The reason I don’t want to open the container is because the past is a finished issue with me.”

 

            “I told you everything about me,” Marissa said.  “I told you about Jessie, and about his death and what it did to me.   I just..hoping…you would share a little bit about your own past.   You never really talked much about your wife and son other than what everyone else knows.”

 

            “You know more than others, and that is enough,” K’rilish replied.   He walked over to Marissa and he placed both his paws on her shoulders.   He then looked into her eyes.  “It _really_ doesn’t matter, Marissa.  It’s nothing.”

 

            “Maybe, but I’m a nosey old bitty and when I see a container with a triple locking system, I can’t help but think that you either hiding a bomb or that you may have the secret of the universe stowed away inside,” Marissa said.  

 

            K’rilish smiled and he gave a chuckle that sounded more like a rumble than actual laughter.  “Now you are being paranoid, Marissa.”

 

            He could see the hurt in her eyes, but he refused to give in on the container.   Pulling on his vest, he grabbed his belt buckle with the Starfleet emblem and he put it on.   “Will you be here later on?” he asked.  “After the Captain’s dinner?”

 

            “I thought you wanted to keep our arrangement discrete? Marissa asked.  He could hear the accusatory tone in her voice although she was trying to be jovial. 

 

            “I don’t care about that anymore,” K’rilish replied.   “Please…I want you to be here.   You can tell the quartermaster to reassign your berth to someone else.” 

 

            The corner of Marissa’s mouth rose to form a smile, and it was genuine.    “I think you may be buying me off from what maybe inside that container, K’rilish.”

 

            “Is it working?” K’rilish asked.  He held his smile. 

 

            “Maybe,” Marissa answered.   She walked up to K’rilish and she motioned at with her finger.  He bent down and she kissed him.   “That’s your first and only get out of jail card, Mister.  We promised to be honest with each other.”  

 

            “I can never figure what you mean with that get out of jail card nonsense,” K’rilish muttered. 

 

            “I see that I have to introduce you to the game of Monopoly,” Marissa said.  She rolled her eyes.   “Go!  Get to your meeting while I go about to reorganizing your closet for my stuff.”

 

            K’rilish nodded.  He turned and he started to leave.  He was sure not to look at the container unless he make Marissa all the more curious.   As soon as he was outside in the corridor and away from his quarters, he walked up to the nearest communications panel and he pressed a contact to open a channel. 

 

            “K’rilish to the Chief Quartermaster!”

 

            The response was almost immediate.  The image of a Vulcan appear on the small screen.   He had the impeccably trimmed hair of a Vulcan with a face that looked as if it were chiseled from stone.   “This is Chief Quartermaster Sivarik,” the Vulcan said in an emotionless voice. 

 

            “Chief Sivarik, I want you to send someone to my quarters to pick up a sealed container of mine.  I would like it sent to the security department and given to Lieutenant Stahl.   Please have the crewman inform Mr. Stahl that the container is to be placed in the armory. “

 

            “Yes, Commander K’rilish,” Chief Sivarik answered.  

 

            K’rilish was about to disconnect the connection when he paused.  What came next made him feel terrible.  “And, Chief, please inform the crewman that upon picking up the container that if anyone should inquire where it is being taken that it is being taken to disposal as garbage.” 

 

            “Yes, Commander K’rilish. Chief Sivarik intoned.  If he had any suspicions as to the contents of K’rilish’s container, he was far from showing them.

 

            Pressing the contact that cut off the transmission, K’rilish proceeded to the nearest turbolift.    He felt sick to his stomach and it was not often that he felt that way except when he lied to someone that he cared very much about. 

 

            Guilt was something he could never handle too well. 

 

 

  



	51. ACT TWO part 29

**Deck B – Briefing Room 1**

**Stardate [February 4th, 2300 – Time:  0630-Z]**

 

            He arrived at the meeting early as usual.   To avoid the unpleasantness of small talk, K’rilish busied himself with a PADD of the latest readiness reports from security.  All of the phaser inventories had been checked and secured, and the stress test….having been properly rescheduled…had cleared the Bonaventure’s torpedo launchers and phaser control systems for full operational status.     All that was left as the shield calibrations and those were in the final stages of completion. 

 

            "Captain on Deck!"

 

            Putting down the PADD, K’rilish stood up as Jexe O’Dag and Admiral Van Horne entered the briefing room.   He bore his eyes into the other department heads to heed the same decorum.

 

            “As you were,” O’Dag said.  He walked over to the end of the glistening conference table and he looked across the room as if in taking in the full complement under his command.  “Ladies and Gentlemen, please be seated.”

 

            K’rilish resumed his seat to O’Dag’s right as the other officers and guest sat down.   He noticed that one chair was empty.   As if on cue, the doors to the conference room parted.  In came Lieutenant Commander Savion who glided across the floor almost noiselessly toward his waiting chair. 

 

            _Late_ , K’rilish thought as he stared at Savion   _And this the newly promoted third officer of the Bonaventure._

 

            “Right,” O’Dag said.  He seemed unperturbed by Savion’s lateness.  “Let’s get started.  "First I'd like to thank all of the Department Heads, their Assistants and their staff for a job well done. As of now we've finished all loading operations and preparations for departure. The Bonaventure will be disembarking within the hour." 

 

                As was typical, Ensign Vril began to clap enthusiastically which prompted the other officers to follow suit.   It made no sense cheering what was supposed to be a normal procedure of readying a starship, but K’rilish joined in with the applause. 

 

            "Second ... " O’Dag continued.   He then looked at K’rilish.  "I'd like to formally announce and acknowledge my decision to promote Commander K'rilish as my First Officer, and the Bonnie's new XO, Tactical Officer and Head of Security!" 

 

                K’rilish’s eyes widened as the others around the room broke out with applause and cheers.   Had he bare skin, his embarrassment would have been obvious as the officers applauded and walked up to him to offer handshakes and slaps on the back.   A look at the captain told him that it had been a set up.

 

            Smiling O’Dag motioned for everyone to resume their seats.  "Rather then taking up time with promotion announcements and new department heads, I'll leave that for tonight during the formal Captain's dinner which you are all invited. For now ... to business." 

 

            “Yes, to business,” K’rilish muttered. 

 

            "Two days ago an Optimum agent was apprehended on board after engaging in a bit of sabotage." O’Dag began.  "Ablesmen Gorgolu has been charged with treason and transferred to Federation Marshalls. However, his actions has prompted a communications blackout onboard for all crew members. Though his actions resulted in no injuries or damage to the ship it as sent a clear message -- the Optimum forces are still out there and have the capability of disrupting Star Fleet's operation. This has shifted our mission slightly." 

 

            K’rilish looked O’Dag as he paused to look around the room.    He had a way of commanding everyone’s attention to the severity of an issue with a simple gaze.   

 

            "A new plan has been logged with the station's Operation's Center.” O’Dag continued.  “Officially we are departing for Mars where we will begin our shakedown cruise and testing. That is our official mission. Unofficially, our efforts will be taken elsewhere."

 

            "Due to the nature of our mission group the chain of command will be broken down as the following. Operation of the Bonaventure will fall upon myself and the ship's department heads. Our jobs will be to deliver an operation capable vessel for Admiral Van Horne to use for our mission. The Command Center of the Bonnie will remain on the Bridge, but for this mission the Command Intelligence Center and Auxiliary Bridge located on Deck G will be converted into an Operation Center where Admiral Van Horne will run and coordinate all mission and inter-ship command decisions. All Department Heads will be expected to run a shift in the Operation  Center, especially once we enter Klingon space." 

 

            The lights in the room dimmed and K’rilish watched as a holographic map of Federation and Klingon space appear over the table.   He stared at a course marker beginning at the Sol System that extended to the Klingon border and on to several colonies whose names were familiar to K’rilish.  

 

            "The refugees rescued from the Tellarite freighter have painted a grim picture on the outer Klingon colonies. Large swaths of the population are suffering from the same small pox virus that once plagued the earth centuries ago. The Klingon have no cure for 

the virus and the colonies have been ordered to be razed my the local warlord, General Maskan." 

 

            _Masakan!_   K’rilish thought.   The name sounded familiar, but he could not place it right away.  He felt the fur around his neck rise with growing concern as the stellar image over the table was replaced by the scarred face of the Klingon general.   

 

            If there were any similarities of General Masakan’s image to any Klingon warriors that K’rilish knew, thirty years of fighting and warfare had altered them to the point that the ones in his memory were no longer of any use.  But it was the eyes, the sunken brown eyes that seemed strangely familiar. 

 

            O’Dag pressed on, his voice steady as he spoke.  "Masakan is a legend in the outer worlds. Given their distance from Qo'Nos the colony warlords are afforded a certain level of autonomy.  Maskan considers the colonies his own personal kingdom. Ten years ago a small Bird of Prey battle group was sent into the outer worlds to establish an attack base. Masakan faced then with half the number of his own ships. A month later the only surviving vessel from the group tumbled towards the Klingon home world. It was an empty derelict, distinguished by one fact. It was painted from fore to aft in Klingon blood -- the only remains of the warriors sent to face Masakan." 

 

            The general's image faded showing the stellar map once again.

 

"The virus plaguing the colonies is a cross-humanoid version of the small pox disease, but easily treatable with our technology. Our mission is to make it to the colonies and treat the population before General Maskan arrives, preventing the need to massacre his own people."  

 

            O’Dag paused to let everyone in the room take in the complexity and importance of what he had just discussed.  K’rilish leaned back in his chair and he rested his paw on his chin as he watched the debriefing continue.   It was not taking his full attention now that he was trying to figure out where he had seen Maskan before.    The Federation Klingon War had been a brief affair, but in the short span that it had waged it had been on one of the bloodiest that the Federation had ever endured.   Adding to the losses had been the ongoing “cold war” that had existed before and after.   

 

            That face with its zigzagging scare and sunken eyes.   If K’rilish had not seen it personally, he had seen it somewhere else perhaps on a holo-vid or battle report.   His eyes glossed over as he found himself delving into memories that he had hoped would be long forgotten, but had only submerged. 

           

"Commander K'rilish."  

 

The sound of O’Dag’s voice broke K’rilish form his fugue state.  He blinked and he looked at O’Dag who was speaking.   "Given the destination of our mission a lot will be asked of Security. I'd like you to assemble a team to be assigned to the Piedmont.   See what you can do to improve their weapons and defense capabilities. Drill their crew on evacuation procedures, and strategies in the event that they are boarded by hostile forces. Though the Comfort is carrying the bulk of our medical supplies, the Piedmont's cargo includes the six mobile field hospitals, construction material and machines. They're vital to our mission. Lt. Shaz has volunteered to head the team, but I leave that decision to you, Commander.  Given the incident with Mr. Gorgolu we can't rule out another attempt of sabotage. We'll need stationed guards in their cargo areas." 

           

K’rilish nodded in agreement.  He picked up his PADD that he had resting on the table and he confirmed the orders.

 

O’Dag finished the rest of the duty assignments.   Everyone aboard the Bonaventure would be busy at all hours of the given day cycle and K’rilish could see that he would be incredibly busy.    He tapped a message in his PADD for Luther Stahl to assemble the security heads within the hour.    As pressure would be placed on him to achieve, he would soon to pass it along. 

 

Sunken brown eyes……

 

"Now ... floor's is open for questions." O’Dag called out.  

 

K’rilish said nothing.  He needed to find a computer terminal before he confirmed his suspicions.  From what he had discerned from the debriefing, however, he had already come to his own conclusions.

 

This was not going to be an easy mission. 

  



	52. ACT TWO part 30--"The Word Is Given"

Briefing Room Deck B  
  
USS Bonaventure NCC-1745-A  
  
The doors opened and Savion entered. Looking quickly side to side, he saw an empty seat, right in between the Patterson sisters. In spite of his feelings regarding Cassandra (he didn't see her at any time after returning to the Phobos with the hostages and prisoners from the old Bonaventure and his last memory of her was not personally pleasant), he took his seat quickly and quietly, perfectly aware of the silence of the room as all eyes were upon him. Karen passed him a PADD and discretely whispered three words, "Updates and statuses."   
  
"Thanks!" he whispered back gratefully, as there was still a bit of conversation about. "I owe you one!"  
  
"Are you kidding me?" she shot back quietly. "You don't owe me anything! Shut up!" She grinned and winked. The commotion died down and everyone looked at the Captain expectantly.  
  
Savion paid full attention to the Captain, as he outlined the Bonaventure's current condition; ready for departure. There was a round of applause, followed by the announcement of Commander K'rilish becoming First Officer, XO, Tactical Officer and Security Head. Renn lept to his feet excitedly and started clapping, which began a standing ovation and much back-slapping and hand shakes. Very quickly, however, order was restored and the meeting resumed.  
  
The meeting covered the attempted – and in Savion's mind – botched sabotage that resulted in communications being blacked out, which explained why he hadn't been able to reach the ship earlier.  
  
The meeting covered the new operations plan – a bit of subterfuge in itself to misdirect the scattered efforts of the Optimum – and expected duties of the department heads as well. The holographic map of Federation and Klingon space showing their destination and the issues of getting there, hopefully undetected.... but from what he knew of Klingon procedures plus their attention to their borders, it still sounded pretty far-fetched but the events of the destruction of Praxis some years ago highlighted how fragile the Klingon Empire might be, in spite of the sabre-rattling that came from their Embassy representatives.  
  
But the devastation of the Klingon colony worlds and the actions of General Maskan were sobering. That a General would do that to his own people...!  
  
The topic now moved to the relief task force and the surprise to the Bonaventure crew that Dr. Mender was now CO of the USS Comfort. He wondered briefly on who would be the ship's CMO, but he forced that thought aside as the Captain continued with the briefing on the ships.  
  
The Captain introduced the new people at the meeting: "May I present Raymond Escobar, and James Roman." A few moments with Mr. Vril regarding details of the task force and then:  
  
"Savion ... "   
  
The Captain had his full attention and he straightened in his chair.  
  
"... I'm afraid you and your department will have your hands full. Aside from overseeing our shakedown I'll need you to assign a team to the Piedmont. Get all of their systems up to maximum efficiency -- engines, shields, sensors, life-support and weapons, and an inventory of their parts and systems. Even though Mr. Roman insist there is little to improve -- "   
  


"She's Perfect, Captain O'Dag," interrupted Roman with a confident look. "The 'Mont's the fastest civilian ship in the Federation."  
  
"Aye that. Let's make it the fastest in the Klingon Empire then," replied Jexe.   
  
"Will do. So ... ," said Roman in an over-friendly tone. "Who's the lucky soul who wants to work with me?"   
  
Mr. Roman's eyes swept around the table and Savion couldn't help but note that while his gaze lingered in his direction; he knew that Roman focused on the ladies on either side of him. He could tell Karen tensed up a little and he wasn't certain how Cassandra responded.  
  
The Captain cleared his throat a bit noisily and replied tersely. "Right. Let's move on."  
  
"Lt. Maria Levenov is the Assistant Chief Engineer of the Comfort."   
  
He indicated an attractive brunette with sharp Eastern European features next to Mr. Roman. She turned to face Savion and as Mr. Roman had let his gaze focus on the Patterson sisters, she openly stared at him with dark eyes.  
  
The Captain continued, "The Comfort is an Olympic Class starship. Lt. Levenov is here to interface our newer systems with theirs."   
  
"I look forward to working with you, Commander," said the Russian Engineer with a heavy accent.   
  
[I bet you do..] Savion thought. He was going to have to watch her, he decided, but part of him wasn't sure why. T'Val's thoughts intruded briefly. [Kerov-ahm, do not be obtuse - you know why.] He blinked at that and focused his attention as Commander K'rilish was being addressed.  
  
The light from outside flickered briefly as a Workbee shot by, breaking the stream of filtered sunlight illuminating the Briefing Room.  
  
As the Captain discussed some important issues with Owen and Vril – which Savion did listen to, with his mind busy with sorting out the heads of the shift schedule plus working out who he could send as the teams being requested. Problem was, the people he wanted to head the shifts were also the best people to head the teams to the Piedmont and Comfort.  
  
Savion's PADD – the one Karen passed to him at the beginning of the meeting - beeped softly as Owen and Renn's data entered its memory.  
  
"Admiral ... " said the Captain, "I'm afraid the decision on our course and heading will be yours when the time comes."   
  
The Flag Officer nodded and immersed himself in the new data.  
  
"All right, last item. On our trip to the border Yeoman Park will be conducting mandatory classes on both Klingon culture and conversational Klingon. Much of the populace of the outer worlds are not of the Warrior clans. Many are farmers, artisans, ship builders and miners. Regardless, we will be viewed with suspicion. Cultural understanding and speaking the right word can go a long way in winning trust. We need to make it clear to the Klingons that we're there to help."   
  
Great, Savion thought. Yet one more thing he didn't have time for. The last two days' rest were becoming a vague memory, but not the beacon that was T'Val's presence in his mind. No matter, though. He would find that time along the way. The new shift schedule did offer one thing; he could spend the off-shift time on coordinating the needs of the task force ships as well as the other necessary preparation time that would be required.  
  
The Captain pressed a stud on his console and the lights brightened ; simultaneously, the holo-viewer winked off.   
  
"Mr. Vril ... the word is given. Head to the Bridge and prepare to disembark. Set course for Utopia Planitia."   
  
"Aye, sir."   
  
Raising to his full height the Orion exited the Briefing Room and headed for the Bridge. Captain O'Dag gazed upon the remaining officers.   
  
"Now ... floor is open for questions."   
  
There were many questions shooting through his mind, but Savion realized that these were ones that could only be asked when the time was right for them. With the plan in hand, there was much to to get ready for and the Bonaventure awaited her first true test of this mission. He indicated 'no questions' and awaited for the meeting to break to begin implementing the plan.  
  



	53. ACT TWO part 31

**USS Bonaventure, NCC 1745-A**

**Stationary Earth Orbit**

**Deck G – Security Center Conference Room**

**Stardate [February 4th, 2300 – Time:  0720-Z]**

 

**OFF:  A JP by Lowell and Paul**

 

**ON:**

 

               “….make sure to get with the other department heads to schedule their teams for some practice time with the phasers.   What do think, Commander?” 

 

               K’rilish looked up at the assembled officers in the conference room of the security center.  They were all staring at him expectantly. 

 

               “What was that again?” K’rilish asked.

 

               “Drills for type one phaser usage,” Luther said with mild annoyance.   “Lieutenant Darz recommended that everyone on the ship get at least a few hours readiness.” 

 

                “Yes, sure,” K’rilish answered with a nod.  “I’ll pass it long at the next department head meeting.”

 

               Giving K’rilish a sidelong look, Luther went on with the rest of the meeting.   K’rilish was learning to live with the man’s persistent willingness to push his boundaries in lieu of his capabilities as the Bonavneture’s second security officer.  K’rilish leaned back in the chair and he began to think about the earlier meeting in the briefing room.   Since the meeting had ended, he had been bothered by the fact that he had seen General Masakan somewhere.  

 

                Luther’s voice broke through the cloud of K’rilish’s thoughts.   “…need to remember that the Klingons handle their colonies different than ours.  Colonies like Tlk’Os and Qui’Nos are almost run as if they are…”

 

               K’rilish perked his ears and he sat up.  “What were the names of those colonies, Lieutenant?” 

 

                “Tlk’Os and Qui’Nos,” Luther replied.  “I was just stating them as examples and…

 

               K’rilish turned in his chair and he stood up.   “Continue with the meeting, Lieutenant.  There is something urgent that I must discuss with the Captain.” 

 

               K’rilish knew that O’Dag would be in his ready room so soon after the meeting.   He arrived on Deck  B and he walked past his own ready room that he had not even inspected yet.   He walked up to the door and he pressed a finger on the page button.   

 

               “Please enter!” O’Dag’s voice called out. 

 

                The Captain was seated behind his desk and working at his terminal.   Always one to try not to bother his superiors, K’rilish approached the desk and he spoke quickly.   “I apologize for the interruption, Captain.   It’s about General Masakan.   I have information about him that you may find important.”

 

               O’Dag turned away from the terminal, his attention now refocused at K’rilish as the more important subject.    “What do you know of The General?”” he asked.            

               

“Only from an incident that took place a year before the Boanventure’s refit, and before Van Horne came from the future,” K’rilish said.    “I am surprised that I put it from my memory until now.”

 Jexe inclined his head with understanding.  "It sounds important. Probably why you've remembered it. Go on," he encouraged.

             “We were patrolling the border along the neutral zone when we received a Klingon distress call,” K’rilish began.   “It was coming from the planet Qui’Nos which existed in a star system close to the border.   The message was an automated civilian distress call on a registered Klingon frequency which he had recently began to monitor.  Captain LeBaron decided that we would risk the two hour trip to Qui’Nos.  From his point of view, and from most of the senior staff, we figured that it would be an opportunity to improve relations with the Klingon.    You need to remember that he was a different man at this time before he became bitter and twisted.”

             "Aye, with some steel in him," replied Jexe remembering his battle with K'rilish's former CO. "Crossing over into Klingon territory isn't something any Captain would do lightly, no matter what era he came from. What happened next?"

            K’rilish walked over to the window in the ready room that offered a brilliant view of Earth.   The visage of the plant was lost to him as he delved into the deepest recesses of his memory.  “We arrived at Qui’Nos with no problems.   I, my second security officer and two specialists transported down to the planet.    The Klingon settlement was located in a desert area where a large storm front was approaching.   Naturally, we didn’t have much time due to the ionized particles that the storm was creating that would inhibit our transporters.   The goal was to check for survivors, transport back any badly injured settlers and use shuttle craft once safety and security were confirmed.

             “We knew something was wrong the moment we transported.   The Klingon settlement was constructed behind high protective walls and we saw that the main gate was open.  None of the security perimeters were activated, and the power generation systems were still operating.   We simply walked right through the gates into the central square.”

             "Wait." The Titan stood up from his seat leaned his backside against the table and crossed his arms over his chest. "Let me get this straight. An entire Klingon outpost had been evacuated? There was no damage ... nothing?"

             “There was no signs of an attack, or an evacuation,” K’rilish answered.  “The place was untouched.   I broke the away team into two man parties.  I and Lieutenant Rashid went to check the communications building while our two security specialists would check the main hall where the community would gather for business and meals.

             “We found the communications shack empty.  Everything seemed to be in order which, for a Klingon settlement or ship, is putting it mildly.   The communications terminal was displaying the automated message.   I also found a bowl of gagh that was still alive.  Given that gagh cannot live any longer than twelve hours, whatever happened was recent.   

             “And then one of my specialists began to scream.”

             Jexe could visualize the scene in his mind. An Away Team mission gone wrong was any Officer's worst nightmare.

             K’rilish turned away from the window and he looked at O’Dag, his face impassive.   “I ran to the main hall with Rashiid close behind.  I saw Specialist Evens, our newest member, knelt on the ground outside the hall puking his guts out.   Specialist Agrol, a Tellarite, was yelling from inside the hall.   Agrol was a tough one, hard to scare, and I knew that it had to be bad whatever it was that he and Specialist Evens found.

             “I should have seen the signs when we arrived.  All of the other buildings had the windows open because of the desert heat.  The main hall had all of its windows closed with the storm shutters in place.  When I entered the room, I had to wait a few seconds for my eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness beyond.   Before my eyes could adjust I was struck by the smell of the decomposing bodies.  

             "Bodies?" asked the Titan with clear concern.

             “From what I could figure out the settlers had been forced into the main hall.  They were beheaded one by one, their eyes plucked out and their heads stacked in the middle of the wooden table where the settlers would gather to eat their meals.  The bodies were piled up in the corner of the room in a massive pile.  The heat was so stifling that the bodies had already begun to decompose.

             “Agrol was in a state of shock.  He kept on pointing out that the eyes of all the settler’s heads had been removed.    Rashiid noticed a pot had been placed on the massive cooking hearth at the far side of the room.   The fire in the hearth was still lit and the pot was boiling ferociously from the heat.   Rashiid pulled the lid from the pot and he found that not only the eyes of the settlers had been removed and put into the pot, but their hearts had been as well.  

            Jexe swore to himself and rose a fist to his mouth. 

             “I knew that it was a Klingon that did that,” K’rilish said with a growl in his voice.  “I also knew that whoever did that atrocity would have left a message.  Klingons are a loud people, and they like to brag when they can.   I eventually found the message.  The bastard wrote it in the blood of the settlers on the wall where the emblem of the Klingon Empire was placed.”  

             "What did it say?" asked the Captain.

             It had been a long time since K’rilish spoke Klingon or what he had picked up over the years and to put memory to make his job easier.   As for the words that he had seen on the wall of the Klingon hall, he would never forget them.  

             “tal-lvlp jiH!” K’rilish said.   “It means “Fear me”.” 

             "Fear me ,,, " repeated the Titan. He closed his eyes in thought for several seconds. "Commander," he began. "I think we're dealing with more than just a Warlord here. I think we're dealing with a mass murder." 

His eyes opened with the sharp intensity of anger. "A monster. What happened next?" 

             “We left as quickly as we could,” K’rilish answered.  “Whoever did that massacre left the distress beacon on so he could send his message to the Klingon people.   I knew that if a warbird appeared with the Bonaventure still in orbit, we would be blamed for the atrocity.    Captain LeBaron nearly burned up the warp drive getting us out of Klingon space.   Afterward, he reported the incident to Starfleet Command.   They agreed with Captain LeBaron that the incident at Qui’Nos was a closed matter, and the entire crew was sworn to keep it a secret.

            "Secret?" asked the Captain in an astonished voice. "The Klingons must have discovered the atrocity. Even for them this has to have been ... disturbing. Some word must have gone out ... some action taken?"

             “I heard the occasional rumors afterward,” K’rilish said.   “I liked to pull the night watch on the Bonaventure, and I used to listen to the long range chatter from Klingon space when I could.  Occasionally, there would be a report about some incident in the far out colony worlds of the Klingon Empire.    Finally, one night, a name was brought up.   General Masakan.  The Klingon High Command had ordered some of its patrols to avoid parts of its own space.   I realized that they got the message, that is was Masakan who killed those settlers on Qui’Nos.” 

             "He got the Klingons to live in fear. Not an easy thing to do. And now it seems their problem may soon be ours." 

Taking a deep breath the new Captain let it out slowly. When done he regarded his XO. Something else was on his mind. "Commander?" he asked.

             K’rilish stared at O’Dag’s blue eyes.   “As your first officer, I am obligated to tell what I think, Sir.”

             "Of course. But ... I'd rather you not feel obligated. Given what you've told me I welcome your counsel." 

             “We should be at alert every minute that we are in Klingon space, and the moment that we come across General Masakan, or any of his followers, we kill them.  There is no diplomacy here, Captain.  You cannot expect to rationalize with someone who killed his own people just to send a message.”

Jexe considered his XO's words. After a length he spoke. "Commander, it's my intention to get us in and out of Klingon space without any kind of incident. Unfortunately, this is a humanitarian mission and not a Battle Group. We're here to save lives. Avenging crimes against the Klingon people isn't something I or Admiral VanHorne are prepared to do. However ... " 

Jexe could see the look on K'rilish's face. He held up a hand. "... That doesn't mean we're going in like lambs to a slaughter. Get your teams assembled and ready. After that I want you to work with Yeoman Park and Ensign Kate Metcalfe . Check Star Fleet's communications archives of all border patrols who may have picked up any bit of chatter, intercepted message, or rumours concerning General Masakan. I want you to build a profile on the man. If diplomacy won't work I want to know what makes him tick. What he likes, what he hates.  How can we deal with him. In the mean time Admiral VanHorne and I will be going over our flotilla formation for when we cross the Klingon border. I'm favouring a straight battle-line, while the Admiral prefers descending columns. We'd appreciate a third head on that discussion as well."

K’rilishe nodded in response. “Yes, Captain.”

"And Commander ... once we cross the border, our status will be high alert ... all the way." 

  



	54. ACT TWO part 32

USS Bonaventure, NCC 1745-A

Stationary Earth Orbit

Deck B – Senior Officer Conference Room

Stardate [February 1st, 2300 – Time: 09:26-Z]

 

Admiral VanHorne waited until the officers had filed out, all but Captain O'Dag and Mr. K'Rilish, whom he motioned to stay, as well as Chief Savion, who remained seated.

He aimed at the monitor displaying the holographic rendering of their plotted course, with separate routes displayed in different colours.  He took a deep breath, and looked at his chronometer.

"Well, that was very well done, Captain.  I think everyone understands the mission, and what their role is.  With one small exception;  you're not cramming me into the auxiliary bridge."

The Admiral could see his friend begin to explain himself, with his hands darting out in supplication, but VanHorne stopped him;

"We'll switch off between night and day watch.  12 hour shifts.  It'll work better if one of us is in the chair at all times.  Mr. K'Rilish can be on call should we both be indisposed for whatever reason.  And yes…you should all be on guard.  This Maskan is a terror.  Specifically why I'm trying to get us there quickly."

VanHorne looked at Savion;

"I want to thank you for forfeiting most of your leave.  I imagine you couldn't have managed to do much in 48 hours, but we need you back here.  If you'd stay along just a few more minutes, I'm waiting for our new Chief Medical Officer to arrive."

Satisfied that the 4 men would be present for a bit longer, VanHorne pointed at the quickest, most dangerous route, that would put them in proximity to the Klingon listening station;

"This is our best bet to get to those people soon, and avoid a combat situation with a ruthless, cold-hearted monster.  I cannot stress how much I'm trying to avoid battle.  We're all barely recovered from the Borg and the Optimum movement.  Let's not let our survival be the over-confidence that gets us killed by some especially vicious Klingon thug."

The image of Maskan loomed on the screen, in vivid, 3D detail,

"I know you're always ready for a fight, Mister K'Rilish, but I'm hoping we can all use our skills to get these people the basic medical treatment they need to save many lives.  There will be more than enough challenge with keeping the colonists safe from themselves, even if we successfully avoid any warrior Klingons."

With that, VanHorne looked at his chronometer,

"Our new man in medical should be along any moment.  I couldn't convince Harbour Control to have him transported over.  From what I gather, he's a little old fashioned,"

The Admiral cocked his head,

"But he is uniquely qualified to help us handle big medical emergencies."

 

 

  



End file.
